


it does not do to dwell on dreams (and forget to live)

by HaleyElizabeth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Human, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleyElizabeth/pseuds/HaleyElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years spent abroad, Derek Hale is called back to the United Kingdom, and offered a job at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. After begrudgingly accepting, Derek quickly realizes that his students are a lot more than he signed up for- one of them in particular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it does not do to dwell on dreams (and forget to live)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poseyorbust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poseyorbust/gifts).



> Written as a gift for [Seath](http://packcestuous.tumblr.com/), without whom this never would have made it past the idea stages. It's my first real, full-length fic in... ever, actually. Title comes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone. Also, note that even though there is a student/teacher relationship, Stiles is seventeen throughout the fic, which does make him legal in the Potterverse.

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to be positive about this? _Hey, let’s go back to a place where people whisper and point at us everywhere we go._ Why?”

Derek glanced up from where he was unceremoniously shoving clothes into a suitcase, and raised an eyebrow at his youngest sister. Cora was sprawled out across his bed, face screwed up in what he knew to be her best attempt at steely anger. (Which, to be perfectly fair, was probably a very good attempt, and might have fooled anyone else that hadn’t known her her entire life. As it was, Derek could see the slight tremble to her lower lip, the way her eyes darted from one place to another, willing them not to water.)

He sighed, and went back to his packing.

“It won’t be that bad, Cora. It’s been six years. People move on. Find better things to gossip about.”

“Yeah, until we show up again. Then we _become_ the better thing to gossip about. _Again._ ” She let out an aggravated moan, and rolled over onto her stomach, forcing her head between his hands and his suitcase, so he had to look at her. “Can’t you tell Deaton we like our life here?”

Derek _did_ like their lives here. New York was huge, bustling, far too busy for anyone to ever stop and take notice of three inconspicuous siblings living in their inconspicuous apartment. Getting adjusted to the muggle world had taken time, and practice, but they had done it, succeeding in becoming perfectly ordinary people, with perfectly ordinary lives.

And they were going to give that up to return to the one place that Derek had promised himself we would never go back to.

He opened his mouth to speak, before he was cut off by another voice.

“Professor Deaton is a very smart man, Cora. He wouldn’t have asked Derek and I to come teach at Hogwarts if it weren’t for the best. And besides, don’t you want to finish your education at a real school?” Laura quirked her lips at her little sister, ruffling her hair a little, before she dropped more clothes onto Derek’s bed, fresh from the dryer.

Cora pulled a face and slithered back to the other side of the bed, rolling over onto her side. “I’m doing just fine with the two of you teaching me. I’m probably ages ahead of the rest of them.”

“Probably. But socializing will be good for you. A girl your age needs friends.”

“You aren’t my mother.”

“No, but I’m the next best thing.” She gave them a lingering look, edging towards the door, before waggling her finger in Derek’s direction. “You promised, Der. No backing out now.”

He had promised, hadn’t he? But he couldn’t remember, now, why he had. Not for the life of him.

Something about Deaton and loyalty.

So, he huffed in his older sister’s direction and went back to shoving clothes into his bag, with a nod of his head as the only confirmation that he’d actually heard her.

“I said we’d floo into Hogsmeade Station by seven o’ clock their time. That’s one more hour. Don’t make me a liar, you two!” He could hear the smile on her face as Laura sashayed back out of the room, leaving them to their devices.

Part of Derek understood why Laura was as happy as she was. To her, they were going home. They were getting their lives back, the life that they should have had, if it hadn’t been ripped out from under them. She was returning to the last place that she’d ever felt like she really belonged.

Derek, on the other hand... Derek wasn’t ready to go home.

Yet, with a heavy sigh, he finished with the last of his bags, and then shoved Cora towards her room, grouching about her being ready to go in an hour.

He didn’t think he’d ever really be ready.

**********

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, you know. Especially at such short notice.” Deaton gave a flick of his wand to make three teacups and a silver kettle appear. Another flick, and the kettle poured the tea easily, before two cups floated towards where Derek and Laura were sitting. He caught his own, but set it down without drinking any. “What with so many teachers leaving this year, we barely have enough staff to maintain normal classes. Professor Finstock has had to take over the quidditch program just to maintain it.”

“Of course, Professor. You know that Derek and I, we both consider Hogwarts our home.” Beside him, Laura was practically preening, and Derek fought against the urge to roll his eyes at her.

Deaton seemed elated, however, and positively beamed at her, giving a nod of his head. “Wonderful, that’s absolutely wonderful to hear. And please, you’re not a student anymore, Laura, call me Alan.”

“Alan, then.” Laura muttered, her cheeks pinkening, as she took a sip of her tea.

This time, Derek couldn’t resist rolling his eyes- but it was apparently exactly the wrong time to do so, because the moment he did, Deaton’s gaze was on him. He cleared his throat, and straightened his spine slightly.

“Happy to help.” He added, giving a sharp nod, hands curling against his thighs.

Deaton gave him a considerate look that made Derek squirm in his seat, before he seemed satisfied at whatever he’d seen, and went back to looking at Laura.

For the next hour, Derek sat in stoic silence, half-listening to Deaton give them the run down on classes that they’d be teaching. He was a little surprised to find, when handed his schedule, that his last class of the day was something called ‘Advanced Care of Magical Creatures’ for seventh years.

“I thought the seventh years didn’t take my class.”

“Previously, no. It was, however, added to the curriculum several years ago... is that going to be a problem, Derek?”

He considered the schedule in his hand before he folded the piece of parchment up, and shoved it into his breast pocket. “No, of course not.”

Ten minutes later, when he and Laura were headed down the staircase from the Headmaster’s office, his sister swung an arm around his shoulders. “You could try and be a little happier about this. You don’t want to be that teacher that everyone hates, do you?”

He huffed at her and shrugged her arm away. Derek didn’t particularly _care_ what the students thought of him. He wasn’t here to be liked. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here at all.

“I’m serious, Derek. Be a little more positive!”

“How should I go about doing that? Take a page out of your book and flirt with the Headmaster all afternoon?”

Laura narrowed her eyes and swatted him on the side. “I was not flirting.”

He grunted out a noncommittal noise, and she swung her arm back over him.

“They were first years when you left, Derek. I doubt any of them remember you, specifically. I doubt any of them even remember the fire at all.” Her voice was sugary sweet and full of hope, and Derek allowed himself, for a moment, to be lulled into the safety of Laura’s world.

**********

Laura was, as it turned out, _wrong._

After the sorting ceremony, when Derek and his sister had been introduced at the front of the hall as the new Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration professors, a sort of tense silence had descended over the hall. Students of all years had gazed up at them with wide eyes and he had seen a large number of them whispering to one another behind cupped hands.

It made him feel flushed and too warm and _incredibly_ uncomfortable, and he made a point to scowl particularly hard at the whole lot of them, before he sat back down.

Laura, however, shot them all a brilliant white smile and practically _bowed_ , at which point the applause started up, originating with the Gryffindor table, and then spreading across the rest of them. Which only made him scowl harder.

He glared at his sister when she sat down and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Okay, so they remember. So what? We’re _legendary._ ”

Laura promptly turned away from him to start chatting up Deaton and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Morrell. Derek let his own eyes slide down the line of staff members he was seated with, cringing slightly when he saw Professor Finstock gesticulating wildly at the end of the table, to an olive skinned woman in the madame’s uniform. He had no idea _how_ that man was still employed here.

Bored of the professors, Derek turned back to the students, and started searching for Cora’s face at the Gryffindor table. (According to Deaton, she’d been put back into her original house rather than being resorted.) He found her slumped over a bowl of stew, a curly haired blonde girl at her side, chatting animatedly, while she looked like she wanted to attempt the killing curse on herself.

Even from all the way across the room, Derek sympathized with her.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a boy on the other side of the blonde girl get hit in the face with a fried egg. The boy- who had a bright and shiny ‘Head Boy’ badge pinned to his chest- shook off the egg and wiped his face, before turning his eyes in the direction it had come from.

Derek followed his gaze and found a boy at the Hufflepuff table practically _howling_ with laugher, clutching at his sides and bent over the table. The boy was pale, dusted with moles, and was familiar in a way that he couldn’t place. At his side, a tall boy with curls of his own chuckled and grinned sheepishly at the Head Boy.

Derek glanced back at the Gryffindor table just in time to see said boy load up an egg of his own onto his spoon, and send it sailing towards the two Hufflepuffs. But they each ducked, almost in sync, and the egg kept flying- until it hit the head of a boy sitting at the Slytherin table.

The boy stood up, looking like a murderer, and wheeled around. When his eyes landed on the Head Boy- who was staring with his mouth agape in horror- he started storming towards the table, only to be stopped by a short, red haired girl. The girl was donned in Slytherin robes, and Derek noted the Head Girl badge on her chest. She said something- something that was clearly a threat from the look on her face- and the boy glowered and sat back down with his friend, whispering something conspiratorially that made Derek fear for the life of the Head Boy.

The red haired girl sat back down beside a brunette, and went on with her conversation, as if there had been no interruption. His eyes flicked back to the Hufflepuff table, where the mole-covered boy was flushed, and mouthing apologies across the Hall.

Dear Merlin, what had Derek gotten himself into? He caught eyes with Cora, who had apparently seen the entire thing for herself, and seemed to be wondering the same thing. 

**********

The first day of classes passed with little fanfare, despite Derek’s night spent tossing and turning beforehand. With the exception of one fourth year who kept trying to sneak away from the designated area to get closer to the Forbidden Forest, he hadn’t even had to raise his voice at anyone.

And now, at the end of his day, with only one class in front of him, all Derek wanted was to go inside and read his books, and _avoid the Hell out of the seventh years._ But no. He was a professor now. He was supposed to be _responsible_ now.

He wondered if his teeth would start to fall out if he ground them too much.

Derek sat down on the tree stump he’d been using as a chair, and braced his hands on his knees, and waited.

The first to show up was the tiny Head Girl that he remembered from the feast the day before. She met his eyes, before letting her’s rake over him. He felt judged. And he had no idea whether he’d passed or failed whatever test she was putting him through, because a moment later, she was dropping her bag to the floor, her copy of Magical Beasts of The Twenty-First Century open in her arms.

He didn’t have time to linger on her, though, because in the next moment, another hoard were arriving. Cora came over the hill, the blonde girl she’d been eating with the night before at her hip, still talking a mile a minute, like she couldn’t make herself stop talking. With them was a tall, dark skinned boy in Ravenclaw robes, and the curly-haired Hufflepuff.

Derek and Cora shared a smile, a brief one, before he checked the time on his pocketwatch.

The two Slytherin boys sauntered in next, at exactly the time class was supposed to start, both walking directly over to the Head Girl. The blonde wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed the side of her cheek, but she barely took notice of him, continuing to read through her book. The other, an olive skinned boy with a broad chest and an easy smile, just rolled his eyes at the two of them, before he let his eyes go to Derek, sweeping across his body, before rising back to his face and smiling.

With a cough, he stood up, and shoved his watch back into his pocket. “Is this everyone?”

He was sure that there were supposed to be more people. His class roster had said ten students in the advanced class, he was almost positive of it.

“Not exactly.” Drawled the Head Girl, glancing over her shoulder. “But there should be an incoming in three, two...”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Over the hill, three bodies appeared, the one that had spoken being the Head Boy. His fingers were laced with a brunette girl in Slytherin robes, until the two of them broke apart, and she made her way over to the other Slytherins in the class. Her presence seemed to be enough to draw the redhead’s attention away from her book, because she closed it and gave her a smile.

With them, was the Hufflepuff boy that had started the almost food-fight the night before. He was smirking when he came into the clearing, dropping his bag at his feet. He gave Derek an imploring look, and raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s on the agenda, teach?”

“You’re late.”

The kid smirked a little wider, and the boy at his side flushed. “I’m sorry,” He repeated, casting a glance over at the girl he’d come in with. “It won’t happen again.”

Derek grunted, and grabbed the class rosters from inside of his robe pocket, taking out the slip of paper from their class to call roll.

Which was when he actually read the names on the list.

And his fucking blood ran cold.

“Argent, Allison.”

He was hopeful that his voice didn’t sound as _hateful_ as he felt, but from the looks on the students’ faces, his hopes fell flat. He didn’t need to wonder anymore who Allison Argent was. Almost every eye in the room turned to the brunette Slytherin girl, who was staring down at her feet, cheeks turning darker and darker by the second.

“Here.” She muttered softly, and he thought he saw the redhead squeeze her wrist. Across the clearing, his sister’s hands curled into fists, and the blonde girl whispered into her ear.

The only person still looking at Derek was the thin Hufflepuff boy, with the moles on his neck and face. Their eyes connected for the briefest of moments, and Derek couldn’t identify what he saw staring back at him. He didn’t want to know.

Instead, he turned back to his list

“Boyd, Vernon.”

“Here.”

“Hale, Cora.”

“Present.”

“Lahey, Isaac.”

“Here.”

“Mahealani, Daniel.”

“Here.”

“Martin, Lydia.”

“Present.”

“McCall, Scott.”

“Here.”

“Reyes, Erica.”

“Here!”

“Stilinski, Br-”

“Stiles! It’s just, uh. Just Stiles.”

Derek looked up from the paper, at the boy who had spoken, before looking back down. Wasn’t that a girl’s name? Sheesh. No wonder he went by Stiles.

“Fine. Whittemore, Jackson.”

“Present.”

Derek shoved the roster back into his pocket, before he turned to look at all of them, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, uh. If you could all just take out your books, and turn to page eleven,”

There was a shuffling of fabric as everyone moved to do as they were told, and Derek shifted, uncomfortably, in front of them.

“This what we’re gonna do today, Prof? Read?” Stilinski flipped the book open haphazardly, landing, Derek was sure, nowhere near page eleven. But Derek’s attention was diverted when the kid poked his tongue out of the side of his mouth and raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping for something a little more hands on.”

Rather than try to figure out if that was a come on- which, clearly, it wasn’t, and Derek was starting out his teaching career with his mind in the gutter- he merely huffed, and moved to grab a box from behind the stump he was sitting on.

“On page eleven, you will find a list of Category Three magical creatures. On that list, you will find the species of creature in this box. The first person to correctly identify the creature, as well as their country of origin, primary purpose in the Wizarding World, and the name of the Wizard who discovered them, will be allowed to keep... whatever they dig up.” He tipped the box over and grinned. “That’s your first clue.”

From the box burst forward six small, rat-like creatures with sleek black fur and long, pointed snouts. Immediately, they started running rampant, making more than one of the students jump or yelp in surprise.

He sat back down on the stump, and motioned for them to continue.

It was Lydia Martin who eventually cried out, “Nifflers! They’re native to Britain. Their primary function is being used as treasure hunters for Goblins. The wizard who discovered them was Oswald Nottingwood.” She was beaming at him, absolutely resplendent with herself, and Derek smiled.

“Very good, Lydia. However-”

“However, it was not Oswald Nottingwood that discovered them. He was the one given credit for their discovery. But it was actually Oswald’s wife that discovered them, in her garden, trying to dig up the silver she’d buried there for emergencies.”

Derek’s eyes flicked over to Stiles, and the side of the boy’s mouth turned up in a grin.

“Niffler. Britain. Treasure hunting. Eliza Nottingwood.”

“Excellent, Mr. Stilinski. Ten points to Hufflepuff.”

Isaac, the other Hufflepuff in the class, grinned wider, and slapped Stiles on the back, who just continued to smirk at him in that _ridiculous_ sort of way. Like they were sharing some sort of secret, when they definitely were not.

“You promised me another prize.”

“I did. Nifflers are used for treasure hunting because they have a capacity to sniff out gold.” Derek stood, and walked to the six little holes that had been dug, plucking a galleon from each. He passed the money into Stiles’ hand, their fingers brushing as he did, and jerked his arm back quickly enough afterwards.

He thought he saw the boy’s smirk grow wider, but he looked away.

“Now, all of you, help me get them back in the box. And be warned, they do bite.”

**********

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

A week into the school year, Stiles Stilinski barged into his office without so much as a knock, and collapsed into the chair opposite his desk.

Derek raised his eyebrows at the boy’s complete lack of propriety, before he shrugged. “Should I be remembering you from somewhere?”

In truth, he’d been thinking that to himself since that first night in the Great Hall. He _did_ remember Stiles, but he couldn’t place him in his head.

“I was a first year when you were a seventh year.”

“As was everyone else in your class.” He didn’t even remember the first years from his own house, much less the Hufflepuffs.

“You tutored me.”

 _Oh._ Well, that would explain that, wouldn’t it?

In Derek’s seventh year of Hogwarts, at the request of Headmaster Deaton, he had started tutoring a small group of first years who were having trouble keeping up with the curriculum. There had been a handful of them, and they’d all been varying degrees of rude. He hadn’t enjoyed it, at all.

He searched his brain for Stiles’ face, and when he finally realized who he’d been, Derek felt... out of sorts. He _could_ , in fact, remember the eleven year old boy who had sat in on their groups, never speaking, always looking off to the distance, curled in on himself.

“You’ve changed.” He said without inflection, though it was true. The boy before him now, Derek couldn’t imagine sitting still and being silent for five minutes, much less an entire class period.

“I was going through some stuff.” Stiles offered vaguely, before switching positions to obnoxiously toss one leg over the side of the chair, slumping against the backrest, clearly making himself comfortable.

Derek set down his book and sighed, leaning back to consider him.

“Is there something else that you needed, Mr. Stilinski?”

“You gotta lay off Allison.”

That threw him for a loop, making him draw up short and crease his eyebrows together tightly, his mouth becoming a thin line.

He had thought that he was doing fine, handling the situation with the Argent girl. He didn’t treat her any differently than the others. He had already specifically told Cora- twice- that she wasn’t allowed anywhere near her, because he knew what his sister was capable of when she was angry. He had thought he was being the perfect neutral party.

“And how exactly do you suggest I lay off of Miss Argent?”

“Dude, I’m not saying this whole, growly, ‘I fuckin’ hate my job and would rather be anywhere else,’ thing isn’t hot- because it definitely is. I’m just saying, she isn’t like the rest of her family. You don’t have to glare at her everytime she walks by. It’s getting super awkward.”

Derek gaped at him like he’d sprouted two extra heads. For a long moment, he struggled to find words appropriate to respond to that, and, upon floundering like a damn fish, he pointed at the door.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” He huffed at him, gruff and annoyed. “And ten points from Hufflepuff for swearing in my office,” he added as an afterthought.

Stiles shrugged, pushing his body out of the chair like that, in itself, was a dramatic affair, his hips and torso thrusting up and swaying forward, before he righted himself.

“Goodnight, Professor Hale.” He offered in an almost sing-song, before he ducked out, shutting the door behind him.

Derek’s head fell directly into his hands.

He wasn’t sure which was worse: that he had gained a reputation for being ‘growly’ towards his students- one, in particular- or that Stiles Stilinski found it ‘hot.’

What the bloody fucking Hell had he gotten himself into?

**********

The staff room on the ground floor was not normally very occupied, what with almost every staff member having his or her own office and bedroom. The only exception to this rule seemed to be any time that someone was offering sweets. Such as now, when Professor Deaton had showed up with an armful of candy from Honeydukes, with a message that it was a gift from the owner to the staff of the school. A reward, if you would, for all the business they sent their way during the year.

Derek, who had never been a big fan of candy himself, had been drug into the lounge by Laura, who was currently curled up against his side, shoving chocolate frogs into her mouth as fast as she could eat them. Derek was tempted to tell her she was going to get a stomach ache, but didn’t bother. It wouldn’t stop her.

And then, to the room as a whole, he decided to ask, “How do you tolerate the students?”

Which sounded significantly better in his head.

A few people turned to look at him with troubled, bewildered expressions on their faces, but most turned back to what they were doing, ignoring him like the question had been rhetorical. At his side, Laura scooted around until she could face him, raising one eyebrow.

“Having trouble with someone?”

“You could say that.”

“Who?”

“Let me guess!” Came a booming voice from behind him, and Derek jumped, startled, because he hadn’t realized that someone was listening in. In the next moment, Professor Finstock was swerving around him, and collapsing onto the chair in front of him. “Greenberg, right?”

Before Derek could answer, Finstock was proclaiming, “I swear, that kid can’t tell his ass from his eyebrows! I would have failed him in his first year- but then I’d have to deal with him again!” He shook his head wildly, and slapped his hands on his thighs.

“Um.” Derek shared a look with Laura, who was grinning behind her hands at the show Finstock was putting on. He turned back to the older man and swallowed. “No. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a Greenberg... he’s not in any of my classes...”

“Oh.” Finstock looked confused for about one moment, before shrugging and shaking his head. “No clue why he’s in mine, either. Probably took it just to bug me. What’s he going to do with seven years of Muggle Studies?”

When Finstock looked at him like he was genuinely searching for an answer, Derek shrugged his shoulder placatingly, and then sunk back into the chair.

“Bobby, come try some of the new lemon pasties, they’re delicious!”

The other man got up and staggered away quickly, leaving Derek to wonder if he was drunk, or if he was crazy. It was a question he’d been asking himself since his youth, though, when he had been a student, subject to Finstock’s peculiar teaching style.

“So, who is it?” Laura asked again, lowering her voice this time.

Derek sighed, hard, and folded his hands in his lap, pointedly not looking at his sister. “There’s an Argent girl in one of my classes.”

A pause followed his words, during which Derek was sure, if he had looked at his sister, he would have been met with a look of disappointment. After a moment, though, Laura placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “The ones responsible were punished for what they did. Just because she shares a last name with Ka-”

“I know, I know. I’ve been trying. I thought I was succeeding, but... apparently I’m ‘growly’ towards her.”

“Well, you’re growly towards everyone.”

“Particularly growly towards her, then.”

“Hmm.” Laura nibbled at her lower lip thoughtfully, tongue chasing down a missed drop of chocolate, before she shrugged. “Try harder, then. I’m sure she’s just as distrustful of you as you are of her.”

They sat in silence for another long moment, before Laura smacked her lips, and started unwrapping her fifth chocolate frog. “She the one that told you you were being too growly?”

“Not exactly. I think she sent her boyfriend’s friend to tell me. Stilinski.”

At that, Laura actually threw her head back and laughed, before throwing him the most _knowing smile_. It reminded him too much of the look Stiles gave him in class, and Derek wondered what joke there was that he was missing out on.

“Oh God, I’ve got that kid in my morning class. He’s a little eccentric, yeah?”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Derek muttered, before he rubbed his hands over his face. “He came barging into my office to tell me to be nicer to his friend.”

“Sounds about right. Good kid. Big mouth, but a good kid.”

“He’s difficult to figure out.” Derek admitted, softly. He was going to add more to that, before Finstock came swerving back over, and, catching the tail end of the conversation, rolled his eyes dramatically.

“We’re not here to figure out a bunch of teenagers, Hale! We’re here to force some knowledge into their pea-sized little brains!”

Derek nodded in agreeance, and let that be the end of it.

**********

Generally speaking, Derek had always been a fan of _playing_ sports. He was good at them, too, having always been fairly athletic. Give him the equipment and a quick rundown, and there wasn’t much that he couldn’t play.

He just wasn’t as big a fan of actually watching the sports. If he wasn’t involved, he got bored. Especially when he didn’t particularly care one way or the other about the outcome.

But it was the first game of the season, Slytherin against Gryffindor, and, even if he would have much rather been hiding in his room and enjoying a few hours of quiet, Derek somehow found himself in the Gryffindor stands with Cora, waiting for the game to start. He could just barely spot Laura a few rows beneath them, listening with big eyes as Professor Morrell spoke to her in a soft tone. Apparently, whatever crush she’d had had on the headmaster, she had decided to transfer over to his half-sister.

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the hard, cold wood.

“Remind me why we have to be here.” Cora muttered, mimicking his position, her arms wrapping tightly around her chest.

“Because you need socialization, which you will not get holing yourself up in your dorm room all the time.” He was well aware that his voice sounded practiced, like he’d learned what to say from listening to someone else say it over again- which he had; Laura- but he was thankful that Cora didn’t call him on it.

It was five minutes after Finstock blew the whistle to start the game, that a body dropped down into the seat next to Derek.

“Hey there, Prof. Didn’t know you were a sports man.”

Derek turned his eyes to the side, to find Stilinski sitting there, smiling at him widely. The boy was wearing some kind of enchanted shirt, which, one minute was bright burgundy, with the words MCCALL FOR PRESIDENT in flashing gold, and the next turned dark green, and portrayed a very detailed scene of Jackson Whittemore being knocked off of his broom and falling to his death.

He had absolutely no idea if the shirt was against some sort of dress code, so he said nothing about it.

“I dabble.” He offered, watching as two others joined them, Boyd and Isaac, Boyd sitting down next to Stiles, and Isaac on the other side of Cora. Though neither was wearing anything nearly as flashy as what Stiles had chosen, they were both sporting red and gold, in support of the Gryffindor team.

“Scott’s been practicing all summer. He’s totally on his a-game. They’re gonna _kill_ Slytherin, am I right?”

Derek’s eyes flicked down to Stiles’ shirt, and he smirked. “It would appear so.”

Stiles looked down at himself as well and flushed a little, rubbing his hand over his chest. “Hey, I mean, I don’t want him to _die_ , you know, for _real_ or anything. But you gotta admit, seein’ him nosedive would take that smug look off his face. And we could _all_ appreciate that, yeah?”

Derek definitely did not nod his head in agreement with Stiles. Because he was a professor. And that was inappropriate. He did, however, turn to look at the players in the air, eyes searching until they landed on McCall, who was, apparently, the Gryffindor team’s Keeper. “The two of you have been friends for a long time?”

“Oh, Hell yeah. We’re like brothers.” Stiles’ eyes moved around until they spotted whatever they were searching for, pointing to a figure on the sidelines. “That’s his mom. She’s kinda like, _our_ mom.”

The woman he was pointing at was the school nurse, standing on the side of the field with her wand in her hand, like she was waiting for the kind of dramatic fall-of-death that Stiles’ flashing tee shirt was advertising.

“Boyd’s Erica’s boyfriend. She’s a Chaser this year.” Stiles cupped Boyd on the shoulder, and the other boy gave him a look that clearly indicated he did not want to be touched. Stiles let his hand fall and huffed out a little breath of annoyance. “And, uh, Isaac just doesn’t have any other friends.”

Isaac looked like he was going to punch Stiles, before Boyd intoned, at a deadpan, “I’m not your fiend.”

This statement seemed to create a theatrical debate between the two, and Derek was more or less able to tune them out, and lean back to continue watching the game.

It was twenty minutes later that Derek felt something warm and soft brush against him, and glanced down to see Stiles worming a little closer to him. When their eyes met, the kid grinned cheekily, and Derek huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

That didn’t seem to deter Stiles, though, who continued pressing in closer until their sides were lined up, little waves of heat going through him at the sensation. He sighed, and turned to him again with raised eyebrows, and Stiles just shrugged. “I’m cold, dude. You’re hot. Get used to it.”

Derek, again, told himself that he was imagining the double meaning. He pushed Stilinski off of him, before shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it over his shoulders. “There. Now, hush.”

“Man.” Stiles made a pleased noise, and tugged the jacket on a little tighter, burrowing his face into the collar in a manner that Derek was definitely trying- and failing- to ignore. “This smells awesome. What kind of cologne do you wear?”

He didn’t even dignify that with an answer, mostly because he didn’t actually wear cologne, and he was fairly certain that Stiles already knew that.

But apparently ignoring him wasn’t going to get him to shut up and leave him alone, because within thirty seconds, he was talking to him again. “You know, I came and saw you play a few times. When you were here. You guys won the Quidditch Cup that year, yeah?”

Derek nodded an affirmative, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“Yeah. Man, I don’t know how I forgot about that. You were _killer_ with a beater’s bat.” Stiles looked at Derek for a long moment, like he was waiting for him to say something, and when he didn’t, the younger boy sighed, and slumped back in his seat. He seemed... disappointed, and even if Derek definitely did not care at all about hurting a seventeen year old’s feelings, he still... didn’t want to be rude.

“You play?”

“Oh, man, yeah!” Stiles nodded enthusiastically, instantly brought back to life, sitting up straighter. “I tried out for like, three years without shit, but I play seeker now. And I’m _good_ , too. And me and Scott practiced all summer together, I’m even _better_ now. You gotta come see me play sometime.”

“Maybe.” Derek offered, and that seemed to be enough to get Stiles grinning wickedly.

And if their fingers touched against the wood of the bench, and Derek didn’t pull away immediately, no one had to know that. And if Stiles turned to give him a small, secret smile in the corner of his mouth, and Derek thought about leaning forward and kissing the smile right off his lips, no one had to know that at all.

“GRYFFINDOR HAS THE SNITCH! THAT’S TWO TWENTY TO EIGHTY, GRYFFINDOR WINS!”

Around him, the crowd burst into frantic screaming, jumping up and down, and whistling as loud as possible. As Stiles bounded away from him to start cheering for his friends, Derek slumped back and took a deep breath. Tried to clear his head.

Beside him, he caught Cora giving him a look, but he didn’t say anything, just clapped his hands lightly, and ignored her inquisitive expression.

**********

Despite having an office within the castle, where he was more than capable of sitting back and reading for hours on end, if he so chose, Derek Hale had a sort of _love affair_ with books. And because of that affair, there really was no place that he felt more relaxed than the library. Even with the occasional students bobbing around him, he found it easy to drift off into the tome open in front of him. Any students in the library on a Saturday were unlikely to be making a substantial amount of ruckus, for which he was grateful.

It was only when he felt someone’s presence, the hairs at the nape of his neck standing at attention, that Derek drug his eyes away from Great Myths of A Time Past.

Vernon Boyd stood a few paces away, a stack of books in his arms, a look of near dread on his face as he glanced back and forth down the lines of tables. Derek raised his head to turn to the side, and then to his other side, and, upon finding the problem- that all of the tables were occupied by _someone_ \- he very carefully used the toe of his shoe to nudge a chair back from his table. Boyd shot him an incredulous look, and Derek merely motioning to the chair with a shrug, before going back to his book.

He hadn’t been sure that the boy would even accept the offer- because, really, who wanted to be known as the kid who associated with teachers outside of class- but was pleasantly surprised when he did slide down across from him, putting his massive stack of books onto the table between them. Derek’s eyes flicked up once, and then back down.

“Noisy common room?”

“You have no idea,” the boy drawled with a shake of his head, cracking open what appeared to be an Ancient Runes textbook, and settling back to read.

Derek was content to let the silence wash over both of them, a comfortable, almost familiar hour of joined solitude, the two of them coexisting without the need for words. Boyd was definitely his favorite student, Derek determined, without a doubt.

He even went so far as to offer him a sugar quill from the package in his robes, Boyd cracking a smile as he put it between his lips, and then turned his eyes back to his book. Derek placed them in the center of the table, between them, before going back to reading about Svarog, in Slavic mythology.

It wasn’t long, however, before the tranquility and ease of the moment was interrupted.

“Hey, baby.” Cooed a voice nearing them, and Derek looked up from his book to see Erica gliding their table. She sat down directly in Boyd’s lap, pecking him on the cheek. “We’re going to Hogsmeade. Can you be done studying now?”

“I just started.” He countered, though Derek couldn’t help but note that there was no real conviction to his voice.

Erica sighed dramatically, and shook her head. “You know, everyone is going to be very, very disappointed if you don’t show up.”

Derek was going to ask who ‘everyone’ was, before he decided that that was probably highly inappropriate for a professor to ask his students. It was absolutely none of his business. They weren’t friends, or even acquaintances.

_“We’re not here to figure out a bunch of teenagers, Hale! We’re here to force some knowledge into their pea-sized little brains!”_

Which was, perhaps, not the worst advice in the world, after all.

As it turned out, though, he didn’t need to ask, because in the next moment, the hoard of them were sauntering through the library doors, and heading for their table. It was an odd mixture of people, at first glance, seeming to be every seventh year from his advanced class- with the single exception of his sister. He had assumed, especially after seeing the shirt that Stilinski had worn to the Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch game, that they hated each other.

But maybe it did make sense. Allison and Scott, who couldn’t seem to be pried apart with a crowbar, unified the otherwise two separate groups. The two in question were already holding hands, leaning into each other as they stared expectantly in Boyd’s direction.

He had absolutely no idea why he was psychoanalyzing a bunch of seventeen year olds. Derek huffed, and looked down at his book again.

Which, really, was a waste of time, because in the next moment, someone was sliding down into the seat next to him, and dragging the book across the table to balance in front of them, instead. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. He looked anyways.

Stiles’ face was screwed up in a look of mild disgust, eyes raking over the text before he shook his head, and pushed it back towards Derek. “Boring, man, totally boring. Don’t you ever do anything for fun?” He ran his pink tongue over his too-red lips, and Derek’s heart definitely didn’t stutter in his chest.

He looked good, in his weekend clothes. Jeans and tennis shoes, a white v-neck and a plaid, green and blue, overshirt. It showed off the jutting collar bones and sinews in his neck, and Derek... Derek was staring. A little. And Stiles was smirking at him, that stupid, ridiculous _knowing_ smirk that made him feel ridiculous.

“I find reading to be perfectly fun.” Derek countered, wrapping his hand around the spine of his book, and snatching it back to his chest, defensively.

Stiles just chuckled, and rolled his eyes at him.

“Okay, this has been fun and all, but I’d really like to go shopping, and I’m sure Professor Hale would like to get back to his reading.” Lydia was definitely his second-favorite student, without a doubt. “Boyd. Come on. We’re leaving.”

Begrudgingly, Boyd gathered up his books and stood, giving Derek a little half-wave that the older man returned. He followed after Erica, who turned around to say, “You should convince Cora to hang out with us, yeah? Maybe she’ll listen to you,” before the majority of the group disappeared down the hall, leaving only Stiles and Scott.

“Stiles, c’mon, before Lydia decides to turn on you, next.”

“I’ll catch up. I need to ask Professor Hale some homework questions.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and Scott seemed equally confused, but nodded, before he took off to race after Allison.

“You didn’t have any homework this wee-”

“Boyd is really, really in love with Erica.”

The words threw Derek for a loop. He wondered if there would ever actually come a time when he stopped being thrown off balance by the things that his students said. Probably not.

“That’s great, but I-”

“I’m just saying... Boyd would never cheat on Erica. Like, ever. Like, I’m pretty sure that he would rather get dragon pox than ever hurt her. Even if the person who was offering was a really hot... like, really, really hot, smart, witty... older man, that he was, like, really into.”

Well.

Well, now, Derek definitely felt incredibly uncomfortable, and he was just... he was just going to go bury his damn head in the sand. “Stilinski.” He sighed the word in utter exasperation, snapping his book closed and putting his head in his hands.

First Allison, and now Boyd? Would there ever come a month when Stiles did not show up to tell him that he was behaving inappropriately with his own students?

“Mr. Stilinski, I am in no way seeking a romantic relationship with Mr. Boyd, and if that is the impression that you-”

“I’m just saying, if you wanted to have some illicit affair with a student, there are other options. Options that are a lot more... single.”

He gave him that stupid smirk again, and reached forward to snatch one of the sugar quills from the table, while Derek was still struggling to _speak._ He put the candy between his lips and sucked, lewdly, and Derek finally turned his head towards the ceiling, giving another long suffering sigh.

“You should go catch up with your friends, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Later, prof.” He snatched a few more sugar quills before making his way out of the library. Derek stared after him for perhaps longer was necessary, and then, book ruined, decided to head to his office for a well deserved drink.

**********

“Are you planning on explaining why we had to show up to class in swimming uniforms? I’m assuming that we aren’t going to have a relaxing day at the beach.”

Derek’s eyes cut across the lawn to glower at his sister, who merely shot back a look of her own, that he was sure was nearly identical. Huffing, Derek put a hand on her shoulder and started steering her in the direction of the lake.

“Not exactly.” He grumbled, motioning for the rest of the class to follow. He pointedly ignored Stiles and Erica behind him, whispering things like ‘they’re so cute’ and ‘oh my goodness, someone snap a picture of this angry Hale showdown.’

When they did reach the lake, however... everyone grew extremely quiet. He released Cora, and then turned to look at them, arms crossed over his chest, looking... smug. Extremely smug.

“Well?”

“What the holy fucking Hell are those?”

“ _Language_ , Lahey.”

“Kappas.” Lydia offered, her green eyes wide in horror as she stared straight forward at the shoreline, with the rest of her classmates. “Professor Hale, those are _kappas._ ”

“Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Martin.” Derek turned back to look at the animals, with a vague sense of pride swelling that he’d managed to throw the students off, for once, as much as they always threw him. (Which was probably a terrible thing to think, but it was his own inner dialogue, and he’d be damned for feeling guilty.)

Prowling along the shoreline, only half of their bodies visible above the water, ten menacing kappas moved back and forth, watching the students with dark eyes. They looked slightly like saki monkeys, with their white faces and black fur. The exception being the patches of their body covered not in fur, but in black and grey scales. And the indent in their skulls, like a bowl, where water was held.

“Kappas are highly aggressive creatures. However, they are also bound with a certain code of honor. If you show respect to a kappa and bow to him, he will bow in return. If you can get him to bow low enough, the water on top of his head will fall out, and he will be temporarily rendered unconscious. This does not hurt him, but will give you a chance to get him out of the water, and back into the kappa cage.” He motioned to the silver cage sitting a few feet to the side, before turning his eyes on his students.

Who all looked like they were going to shit themselves.

“So... essentially, professor... you want us to try and make a bunch of sea-monkeys... faint.” Isaac turned widened eyes on him, and Derek nodded an affirmative.

“Isn’t this... kind of dangerous?” Scott ventured, though he did take an experimental step closer to the water.

“You will each have a wand on you. I assume you’re all perfectly capable of using defensive spells. And, to be fair, Mr. McCall, if you weren’t looking for something a little more complicated, perhaps you shouldn’t have signed up for _advanced_ Care of Magical Creatures.”

Scott seemed to be thinking the same thing, shooting Stiles a hateful look, like this was somehow all his fault. Stiles just stared ruefully back at him.

It was Cora who huffed and surged forward first, reaching back to tie up her hair, before she clenched her wand in her fist and stomped into the water, a look of sheer determination plastered across her face.

Jackson, unwilling to be shown up, stormed in after her, and Danny followed closely behind. Slowly, and uncertainly, the rest of their class made their way into the water, and when Stiles brushed by him, shoulder grazing his chest, he heard him whisper, “I so hate you.”

Derek couldn't stop grinning.

**********

Watching the students try and take down the kappas was easily the most amusing point of his career, so far.

Lydia, as he’d suspected, was the first to complete the task. Not so expectedly, Scott managed it first, giving the kappa a low bow, the creature stumbling forward to return it, immediately. Whatever he’d thought of Scott- and he’d often wondered how he’d managed to earn the title of Head Boy- it seemed he might have been off base.

Allison managed to finish hers third, but only because she’d tricked it into falling over- not bowing. He was tempted to tell her that that was cheating, but, really, it showed a lot of cleverness, and he couldn’t say for certain that he would have punished anyone else for doing the same. So, instead, he just nodded at her as she tossed her kappa into the cage, and went to join her boyfriend and best friend on the shoreline.

The others were not nearly so lucky.

Boyd and Danny were both over thinking the entire thing, and kept interpreting the kappas movements the wrong way, seeing attacks as them bowing and them bowing as attacks, and ended up reacting in completely the wrong way each time.

Jackson and Cora seemed to lack the ability altogether to try and be respectful to the creatures, and were basically locked in some kind of battle against the sea-creatures, with no real ending in sight.

Every time the kappa moved anywhere near Isaac, he got frightened, and jumped backwards. Which wasn’t getting him anywhere.

And then there were Erica and Stiles. Who didn’t seem to be focused on the task at hand _at all_ , and were instead splashing each other and laughing, like this was some kind of recreational activity, and not a _very serious class assignment._

Eventually, through varying degrees of happenstance and- Derek was sure- cheating, almost all of them ended up out of the water, lying on the sand, watching the last two left.

Cora gave a screech of fury, and proceeded to flip the kappa her middle finger, before stomping up to the shore. “I am not doing this anymore! This is stupid- that thing is ugly and creepy and stupid, and in any real world situation, I would not need to get it to bow! I would just _stun it_ and be done with!”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, this is not a real world situation. This is a classroom. And your assignment is to get it to dump the water from its head- not to stun it.”

She looked like she was going to hit him, and he wondered if he was going to have to give his own sister detention- before he heard a garbled cry from the water.

Derek’s eyes shot out to the lake. Cora leaving to throw her tantrum had left the last student completely alone in the water. With two kappas. His eyes widened as he watched Stiles reach a hand to the blood welling from claw marks in his neck, before the boy fell into the water, disappearing under the surface.

“STUPEFY!”

He slashed his wand through the air, watching the two kappas fall forward, before he stormed into the lake, fully clothed. When he reached Stiles and managed to drag him up and out of the water, the boy was choking on blood and lake sludge, shuddering and pale, still bleeding from the neck. The sight made Derek’s knees nearly go out.

“Put the others in the cage, and STAY HERE!” He commanded to the other nine students, all staring on in horror, before he started for the castle, Stiles gathered in his arms.

The whole way there, he cradled the seventeen year old against his chest, whispering to him soft words that Derek wasn’t even entirely sure were coherent. “Stay with me, Stiles. C’mon, stay with me. You’re gonna be fine. S’just a flesh wound.”

He thought the gurgling, coughing noises sounded something like a laugh, but that was probably just his imagination.

When he finally reached the hospital wing, leaving a trail of water and horrified, gaping students in his wake, he practically kicked the door open. “A little help, please!”

Madame McCall appeared immediately around the bend, popping her head out from the nurse’s station, her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline at the sight in her doorway. “Dear Merlin. Put him on a bed.”

Derek did as he was told, moving to the cot nearest to him and lying Stiles on his back.

“What the Hell got him?”

“Kappa claws.”

She ducked into the nurse’s station once more, and when Stiles spit more blood onto the side of the cot, he thought about yelling, just in time for her to reappear with a vial of clear liquid in her hand. The woman unscrewed the top, before turning it over and pouring four drops onto Stiles’ still bloody neck.

Derek watched in a kind of fascinated awe as the wounds started to foam and bubble, and he was too distracted to protest when she pushed him away and snatched the curtain around him closed.

“Is he going to be alright?” Derek asked sullenly, looking down at her and shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes.

“Why the Hell was a student wrestling with a kappa in the first place, _Professor?_ ” The way she said the word, like she was mocking him, made him wince.

He probably deserved that.

He should have been paying more attention.

Derek sighed, and looked resolutely at the ground. Madame McCall tsked with her tongue, and shooed him towards the door. “Go. I’ve got it from here.”

And even if he wanted to stay, Derek left, heading back towards the lake, where his other students were waiting.

**********

“You know, I knew you weren’t Stilinski’s biggest fan, but I didn’t think you’d actually try and kill him.”

Derek struggled for a moment to remember why he associated with Laura at all.

He was sitting in the little bedroom that they’d given him, attached to his office, and his sister had either guessed at his password, or had bribed his portrait into opening without it, because here she was, leaning against his wall, hands on her hips. And _smiling_ at him, like she thought this was hilarious.

He growled in her general direction, and took another sip of firewhiskey.

“Oh, come _on_ , Derek. You have to admit, it’s a little comical. Your first year as a teacher, and you send a poor child to the hospital wing, after being nearly _clawed to death_ by an _enraged sea-monkey?_ ”

That sounded slightly dramatized, and Derek had a feeling that his sister had been talking to Lahey and McCall. Which was really just the icing on the cake, wasn’t it?

“I have no idea how that is comical. At all.”

She grinned and slid further into the room until she could collapse into the chair next to him. Without even hinting at asking permission, Laura snatched the flask of firewhiskey from his fist and brought it to her mouth. She grimaced at the taste, as she always did when liquor was involved, but didn’t give it back to him, either.

“Oh, please, Derek. That’s only because you don’t have a sense of humor.”

He thought that that was definitely not true. He had a sense of humor. He found things funny. Like Stiles. Stiles was funny. Even when he was using his humor to smart off in class and be an insubordinate little shit, he was funny.

But this was not a funny situation. Derek thought it was probably especially not funny to Stiles, who was still in the hospital wing, recovering from a goddamned _animal attack._

He grunted at her and shook his head, reaching for the flask, though she kept it out of his reach.

“Be honest with me. Did you do it on purpose? I know you said you were having trouble... tolerating him? Figuring him out? Did he really push you to the point of letting wild animals try and kill him? Because, Derek, if you’re letting kappas go after children-”

“God, Laura, is that honestly what you think of me?”

That his own sister could think... for one singular moment, that he would ever intentionally try to-

“I’m just _asking_ , Derek. I _know_ you hate him.”

“I do not hate Stilinski.”

“Well, you don’t like him, then.”

But that wasn’t true either, was it? Stiles Stilinski infuriated him, made him want to break things on more than one occasion, but it had nothing to do with not liking him, and everything to do with maybe, almost liking him... too much.

He liked the way he walked with his whole body in motion, long legs flailing like it was some kind of event to behold, hips always thrusting, arms always gesticulating to try and get his point across. The way his mouth was always moving- if he wasn’t talking, he was licking at his lips, biting at them, sucking them between his teeth.

And he _liked_ the way he talked to him. Even if it was completely inappropriate and unbefitting and even if it made Derek uncomfortable _all the time_ , he... he liked it. He liked it when Stiles winked at him, playfully, and or when he made his ridiculously heavy innuendos, and really, wasn’t Derek too old for schoolboy crushes?

When he looked at her, Laura was staring at him, a smile on her mouth.

“Is there something that you need?” He drawled impatiently, trying- and failing- once more to snatch the flask from her.

“Yes.” She said with a nod, snuggling back into his chair, and pointing towards the portrait hole. “Stiles is awake. He’s been asking for you.”

**********

“And I expect this to count as some kind of extra credit. And I want a letter of recommendation for whatever career I decide to go after, after graduation. And maybe a trophy.”

Whatever guilt Derek had been feeling about the attack was not only completely assuaged, but stomped into tiny pieces and then _lit on fire._ He was sitting in the chair next to Stiles’ hospital cot, watching the boy slurp pumpkin juice through a straw- the sight of him with anything in his mouth was fucking lewd, and Derek was so beyond done- and listening to him name off demand after demand of what he wanted to come from the ‘life altering experience’ of the day.

“A trophy.” Derek repeated dryly, leaning back to fold his hands in his lap, giving Stiles an inquisitive look.

“Yeah! For being your first ever student to nearly die in one of your lessons.”

“And that is deserving of a trophy how?”

“Because I _nearly_ died. _Nearly._ ” Stiles overemphasized the word and gestured with his hands, splaying his fingers and then making dramatic flailing motions. Derek wanted to throttle him.

“I’ll see what I can do about the extra credit. And the letter.”

Stiles hummed a little in acknowledgement, using his teeth to rip off the wrapper of his cauldron cake, before he took a huge bite out of it. The smacking and _obnoxious_ chewing and the way that he kept getting chocolate on his mouth should not have been endearing, at all, but Derek found himself almost smiling. Almost.

“You’ve got some, uh...” He motioned to the side of his own mouth, and Stiles raised his eyebrows, licking at the spot Dered indicated. “Still there.” He watched Stiles’ tongue curl against his skin, sliding against it until he’d managed to collect the chocolate from his mouth. Derek cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, you got it.”

The look Stiles was giving him was making him uncomfortable, again, so he pushed forward.

“So, what career do you want, then? After graduation?”

Stiles shrugged, leaning back against the pillows, and considering the ceiling. “I don’t know. Scott wants to be an auror. And my dad’s an auror, you know, so I was thinking about doing that. But I don’t know. Then, I thought about going into healing, but all the stuff you gotta learn, it’s _boring._ I wanna help people, I like helping people, sure, but, eh.”

“What does your mom do?”

And Derek knew it was the wrong question to ask the second that he did, because Stiles shifted, uncomfortable and awkwardly, in front of him, and it was a look that Derek had seen too many times. On Laura. On Cora. On himself.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Could be worse. I have my dad, at least. Could be like Isaac.”

Isaac, from whispers that Derek had picked up on amongst the staff, was a ward of the school. A muggle born, his father had spiraled into a rage and tried to beat him to death when he’d gotten his school letter, at which point Deaton had stepped in and intervened. He lived at the school, technically, but Derek had heard he spent his holidays with the McCalls.

Derek nodded his agreement and that was the end of it, letting the silence settle over them. Stiles ate the rest of his sweets- and Derek wondered who he’d conned into bringing him nothing but snack foods, though the obvious answer was Scott- and Derek watched him eat.

After a while, though, he glanced at the clock. It was late, nearly ten.

“Is there anything else you needed?” He asked him, putting his hands on his thighs and preparing to stand up, before Stiles shot him a wide-eyed, pained look.

“Where are you going? I thought we were hanging out.”

Derek pointedly did not tell him that a teacher and his student hanging out was incredibly inappropriate. “It’s a school night. And Madame McCall has already cleared you for classes tomorrow.”

Stiles frowned, and pushed his tray onto the bedside table, giving a little shake of his head. “I wasn’t done listing all my demands.”

His voice was nothing but serious, but Derek was starting to recognize the glint in his eye when he was being a conniving little turd. (Which was always.) With a heavy breath and a shake of his head, he leaned back into the chair once more.

“Fine, Mr. Stilinski, please continue with your list of demands.”

“You called me Stiles.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When we were coming inside, you were talking to me. You said some pretty ridiculous shit, you know that? But you called me Stiles.” He was grinning, like this meant more than it did, like it meant anything, and Derek’s gut churned uncomfortably.

He shifted in his seat and shrugged. “What does that have to do with your list of demands?”

“I liked it. I want you to call me that more often.”

Derek stared at him for a long moment, before he shook his head a little, and rubbed his hands over his face. “That... is frowned upon... by the administration...”

Which, technically, it was. Though, under other circumstances, they wouldn’t have thought anything about it. Derek was younger. It wouldn’t be weird for him to call his students by their first names. But with the things he felt about Stiles... with the way he was starting to think of him... he felt like calling him Stiles would be like a blinking red sign, pointing to him wherever he went.

“Dude. _Dude._ ” Stiles groaned, flopping back harder and pointing to the side of his neck. “I almost _died_ today!”

“Your scars are completely hea-”

“You always do everything The Man tells you to do?”

At that, he actually snorted, and rolled his eyes. The Man. Please. “Fine. _Stiles._ ”

The kid’s mouth quirked up into the first real _smile, smile_ that Derek had seen from him, and for a second, he felt totally floored.

If he had wondered what he’d gotten himself into before, now Derek was starting to get an idea. And it was terrifying.

**********

Nearly two weeks managed to pass in a relative state of calm.

Derek, who was, it seemed, always looking over his shoulder for something ominous to come down on him, found himself slipping into a surreal state of almost peace. He read books in the library, sometimes with Boyd joining him. He taught his classes, which, after the kappa incident, were going significantly better. And he sometimes... hung out with Stiles.

Which wasn’t at all hanging out, but rather an unspoken agreement that Derek would do his thing, and Stiles would do his, and they would do it near each other. And sometimes Stiles would talk to him. Like when Derek was grading papers, and Stiles was doing his homework, and sometimes he’d bug him to tell him what the answers were. Or when Derek was getting lessons ready in the clearing and Stiles would hang around, climbing the trees he could get to and making commentary about whatever Derek was doing at that exact moment.

It was... maybe not a friendship, but it was something, and it was working, for two weeks.

And they had even had his favorite flavor bean in the Bertie Bott’s bag he’d gotten for himself at Honeydukes.

So, that was nice.

Of course, in his world, a relative state of normalcy- or something like it- could only last so long, before things went down the drain again. Which came, now, in the form of screaming heard from all the way in the Great Hall.

The scream was far too familiar.

Derek half-strode, half-ran down the aisles of house tables, before throwing the doors open to the foyer. Cora was leaning into Boyd, her eyes glazed over and foggy, hands searching frantically in front of her, though for what, he wasn’t sure. Further away, semi-shielded by Scott and Lydia, Allison was slouched over, throwing up what appeared to be some kind of greyish puss onto the stone floor.

He sighed.

Of course, he’d known that things between the two of them would reach a head, but he’d hoped for them not to have wands on them when it did.

With a flick of his wrist, he reversed the curses put on both girls, Cora’s vision returning, and Allison’s stomach easing, both girls straightening up and turning to each other with murder in their eyes.

“THAT IS ENOUGH.”

He glowered, stepping between them, putting the palms of his hands out in front of each.

“Now, what the Hell started this?”

“She was talking about Peter.” Cora hissed through clenched teeth, and he could see her nails digging into her palms from here.

“ _She_ was eavesdropping! And she didn’t hear everything I said.” Allison came back with, chin jutting out defensively.

Derek wanted something to drink. He rubbed a hand over the top of his head, and sighed. “Detention. Both of you. My office, tonight at eight. And ten points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

He walked away, each of them being steered off by their friends. Just before he exited the foyer, he caught sight of Stiles, who had apparently been watching the entire thing. Derek gave him a weak half-smile, before he stormed towards his room.

**********

Of all the people in Hogwarts, with all of their various skills, Derek considered himself to probably be the very _least_ likely to conduct a therapy session with any finesse. Throughout the majority of his life, and of course, especially, since the loss of his parents, Derek had been much more of the ‘ignore all the problems until they go away’ sort- not the kind of person that wanted to sit down and get _touchy feely_ and _talk_ about things.

But this problem wasn’t going away. It was festering, like some kind of dirty, open wound, and the longer he let things go on, the worse it was going to get. He wouldn’t have been altogether surprised if Cora and Allison killed each other by the end of the term.

And honestly, he didn’t know how Laura did it. How she stayed so happy, and so calm. How she managed to fit right back into their old life, to look right into the face of Allison Argent, and not feel... something. Something like anger or fear or repulsion.

It was a skill Derek was beginning to think he would never learn.

He’d had the girls come into his office at eight, and start helping him grade the third years’ exams from the day before, each of them with a stack, a quill and ink bottle, and the answer sheet. With Cora on one side of the office and Allison on the other, they’d managed to work in relative silence for nearly an hour.

Derek set his own quill down and sighed.

“Alright, both of you can stop.” He watched their eyes flick to him, before they both gathered their supplies and brought them back over to the desk. When they turned to leave, he cleared his throat. “We’re not done here.”

Cora looked at him over her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean we’re not done? You said we could stop.”

“We need to talk about what happened.”

They both looked at him like they were going to protest, though Allison finally just nodded, and slid back into the seat she’d occupied for the past hour. Cora quivered on the spot and opened her mouth, but at Derek’s raised eyebrow, she dropped back down into her own chair.

Each of them had the expression of someone sitting on a cactus- which was sort of the way that Derek was beginning to feel about this whole thing. 

Where to start?

“We all know why we’re here.” He started, awkwardly fiddling with his tie while he spoke. “And it has nothing to do with two hexes in the foyer, and everything to do with what happened six years ago.”

“ _Peter_ sits in Azkaban because of the Argents!” Cora slammed her hands into the armrests, her eyes narrowing and cutting across the room at Allison.

Who only glared in return, and, in a much calmer voice, bit back, “Peter killed my aunt.”

“Who burned my family alive.”

Allison seemed to flinch at those words, curling in on herself and looking at her hands for one long moment, before she sucked in a deep breath. When she steeled her shoulders and turned to look at Cora again, she was quivering, but holding her own. “I’m not responsible for the things she did. You aren’t allowed to hate me for that.”

“Then you aren’t allowed to hate me for Peter.”

The two girls stared at each other for a long moment, before Derek cleared his throat, and nodded.

“Great. If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to speak to your heads of house about suspension.” They each nodded in turn, and he motioned towards the door. “You’re free to go.”

In their absence, Derek spelled the rest of his papers into his desk drawer, and rubbed his hands over his face. Whether or not making the girls talk would actually help, at all, he had no way of knowing, though he knew how Cora could be. The outlook was still less than positive.

He was fantasizing about going to his room to lie in his bed and read for the next few hours before bed, when someone slipped through his office door once more.

“I told you that you could-” His eyebrows rose slightly when he glanced up. And then he smiled. Just a little. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles grinned a little and walked over until he could sit down right at the edge of Derek’s desk, bypassing the chairs altogether. “Saw the girls leave without any war breaking out in the hallway. Figured I’d ask how it went.”

“It was detention, it didn’t go any way.” Derek leaned back in his own chair, watching the way that Stiles’ nimble fingers played with the objects on his desk. “You were standing out there, waiting?”

“Not just me. Lots of people. We were sure that with you and Cora alone with Allison, you might try to kill her, and hide the body.” His voice was teasing, but there was something in his expression, some kind of deep concern, that made Derek feel uncomfortable. Why did everyone think him capable of murdering his students?

He gruffed out a noise and shrugged, turning to look anywhere but at Stiles, focusing in on the clock on his wall. “It was fine. No one died.”

What he wasn’t expecting was for Stiles to reach out and brush a hand over his shoulder, before leveling it there. “Dude, if you ever wanna talk, about, you know, whatever-”

“It’s fine, Stiles. It was a long time ago.” And Derek knew that the students gossiped. Had known, of course, that Stiles would know who he was, and what had happened to his family. But whatever his relationship was with the boy, it was something he wanted kept entirely separate from that. Something he wanted to keep sheltered.

That thought alone was enough to scare him.

Stiles nodded, though, like he got it. “You know, we had our first game against Ravenclaw the other day. And we totally _won._ And you were totally _not there._ I feel a little lied to.”

Derek smirked, shaking his head. “I forgot. I was busy.”

“Busy doing what exactly? Growling at eleven year olds? Reading boring old books from the eighteen hundreds cause you think it makes you look indie?”

“Maybe I was on a date.”

Stiles’ expression was totally flabbergasted for a second, before his face smoothed out, and he just smiled at him. That small, secret little smile that never failed to confound him. The hand on his shoulder- which he hadn’t realized was _still_ on his shoulder- moved to his neck, and Stiles’ thumb brushed against his pulsepoint.

“Nah, you weren’t.”

And God, Derek was so fucked.

**********

“Are you going anywhere for Christmas?” Stiles asked the question while hanging upside down from a tree branch, watching Derek set up boxes of flobberworms for the third years.

Derek shot him a look, but turned quickly away. “No.” He was decidedly not going to stare at the way that Stiles’ shirt fell down into his armpits when he hung like that, the way that it exposed his stomach and chest, the way that his hipbones, just barely jutting out from his pantline, were practically begging Derek to bite them, lick them.

Fuck.

“Are you?”

“Nah. Dad’s working a big case in Estonia, probably won’t be home before New Year’s.”

When Derek glanced back over at him, he was moving into a lying position, propped up on his side on the branch. He wasn’t sure how he was managing it without falling, but didn’t question it.

“But, it won’t be so bad. Scott and Melissa will be here, and Isaac. And you.” He grinned at him and Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, going back to sorting through the boxes, separating the worms by male and female.

“Let me guess- you hate Christmas, right?” Stiles’ voice was exasperated, but teasing, and Derek knew if he looked over again, he’d see the boy grinning.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’ve got this whole... angsty, brooding thing going on. I can’t imagine you breaking character long enough to actually enjoy the holidays.”

Derek huffed, offended, and, finished with his sorting, turned to look at Stiles with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I _love_ Christmas.”

“Really?” Stiles positively beamed at him, jumping off of the tree branch altogether. “What’s your favorite part?” He asked excitedly, taking a step forward. Derek didn’t stare at the way he sucked his lower lip into his mouth. He definitely, definitely, did not.

“Uh... food.” Which wasn’t true, exactly, but was probably true enough. It was his favorite part of the holidays that didn’t make him sound like a complete _sap,_ at least, and he wasn’t entirely fond of looking like some kind of cheese ball.

It garnered a laugh from Stiles, if nothing else, the boy taking another step forward. His hand was shoved into his pocket, searching for something, and he said, “My favorite part is the presents,” before he was tossing something in Derek’s direction.

Derek barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground, pulling it up to his face with a scrutinous expression. It was wrapped in ridiculously vibrant green and red wrapping paper, with dancing snowmen, each one doing a different move. Derek had no doubt that Stiles had charmed it himself.

“You got me a present.”

“No, _really?_ Open it up.”

Carefully, he tore the paper free, and dropping the little glass spinning top in his hand. “It’s a sneakoscope.” He said softly, running a thumb along the edge. It was pretty, painted a glossy black, with silver runes that Derek was unsure of the meaning of.

“Yeah. Figured it might help with your crippling trust issues.”

He actually threw his head back and laughed at that, and when he turned his eyes back to Stiles, the boy was looking at him with huge eyes. Like the reaction had shocked the Hell out of him.

Good.

Derek grinned and tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you, Stiles.”

**********

Seeing Laura and Madame McCall coming towards him, together, at breakfast, was singularly the most terrifying moment of his life, and he had the briefest thought to actually get up and run away. But, before he could move, the two women descended, stopping in front of him, matching smiles on their faces.

Whatever this was, he wanted absolutely no part of it.

“So, some of the seventh years wanna have a Winter Dance.” Laura announced, plopping down into the chair next to him, and popping a strawberry into her mouth.

He was right, he wanted absolutely no part of this.

“Okay?” He muttered defensively, swatting her hand away when she tried to grab a piece of toast off of his plate. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Deaton’s already given them permission, they just have to find three staff members willing to chaperone. And Laura and I have already agreed.” Melissa gave him a raised eyebrow, and placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

Derek groaned.

“No.”

“ _Derek_ -”

“I have things to do!”

“Are you saying that we don’t?” Oh God, Melissa’s voice was like ice, and he was sure he was going to end up “accidentally” drowning in the lake or something.

He carefully pulled away from her grip.

“No, of course not! I’m just saying, um. I’m not really interested in chaperoning a dance is all. Can’t you ask Marin?” He plead with his sister, knowing that she and Professor Morrell had been seeing a lot of each other ever since the start of term.

Laura huffed indignantly. “We’re in a fight, I don’t think she’d agree to it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you weren’t anyone’s first choice. Finstock’s been banned from chaperoning dances after a scandal with Scott and Danny Mahealani a few years back. Some misunderstanding or something.” Melissa shrugged, rolling her eyes, before she put her hands on her hips and actually _glowered_ at him. “The kids are really excited about this.”

Derek wanted to disappear.

“I’m sure there’s someone else willing to do it.”

Melissa looked like she was going to argue with him again, but Laura put a hand up. “No need, Mel.” She leaned forward and brushed her nose against his, before poking him in the chest. “The children will do a fine job of pestering him into agreeing. Derek has a _soft spot_ for his students.” She flashed him a grin, before making off with two pieces of his bacon.

He slunk down in his seat and groaned, knowing she was right- it was far from the last he’d heard of a Winter Dance.

**********

Derek was right, unfortunately. Over the next week, he was actually _bombarded_ with students begging him to chaperone the school dance. Students he’d never even met before, like Matt Daehler, who apparently “needed the photography opportunity” and Greenberg- Finstock’s least favorite student- who had nearly cried at him in the bathroom, which was just really uncomfortable.

Jackson Whittemore had threatened him- which he was still considering telling Deaton about- and Lydia Martin had tried to give him a lecture on how endorphins released during dancing actually made students’ brains work better, and would therefore improve their grades.

Erica kept showing up at the library, where he and Boyd could be found in the late afternoon, reading at their usual table, moaning loudly in his general direction about how she wished she had somewhere where they could dress up and have fun for just _one night._

The entire thing was getting out of hand.

Derek Hale did not want to chaperone a Winter Dance.

He was not _fun_ , he did not _dance_ , and there was a castle full of other staff members that were perfectly capable of signing up to help. Why Laura and Melissa had targeted him, and consequently sent the students after him, was lost on Derek.

It was the end of the week, late Friday afternoon, that the door to his office opened, and Stiles Stilinski was _pushed_ inside. The boy stumbled, knocking into his bookshelf and cursing under his breath, before he glanced up at Derek and grinned, weakly. “Uh, hey.”

“Hi...”

“Um. I’ve been sent here on a mission.”

Derek raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “If this is about the Winter Dance-”

“Come _on_ , man. Everyone goes home for break tomorrow. It’d be kinda awesome if they could come back to something... you know, awesome.” Stiles gave him a grin and waggled his eyebrows, dropping into a chair, and throwing his legs up, obnoxiously, onto Derek’s desk.

He sighed.

“I don’t dance.”

“You don’t have to dance to chaperone a dance, dude. You have to do exactly what you do every day. Lurk in the shadows and glare at children.” Stiles made a faux-gasping noise. “If you’re lucky, you might even get to yell at some of them!”

Derek glowered at him.

Stiles glanced back at the office door, chewing at his lip, and Derek tried not to stare at the way his teeth made his mouth redden and swell, at how fucking _edible_ he looked like that. When Stiles looked back, he caught Derek staring and smirked. Derek huffed and turned his head to the side.

“Look, if I don’t come out of here with something, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Who appointed you to be the sacrifice?”

“I think they all conspired against me. They know you’re in love with me.”

Derek floundered for something to say in response, and whatever the look on his face was, it must have been comical. Stiles held up his hands and laughed at him. “Dude. Totally joking. I don’t know why they threw me to the wolves.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Derek let his head fall into his hands. “I won’t... have to dance at all?”

“Not at all. Although, now, I would really like to see what kind of moves you got that you’re that afraid of doing them in public.”

Derek growled at him and Stiles actually giggled a little.

“Fine.”

“Wait, what?”

“Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll chaperone.”

The hooting, hollering, and fist pumping that followed was enough to make Derek roll his eyes into the next century all by itself, but the fact that cheering burst out in the hallway- clearly they’d been eavesdropped on- had him grinding his teeth together and fighting the urge to change his mind on the spot.

“Thanks. A lot. It means a lot.” Stiles got up and headed for the door, but Derek cleared his throat, a hand shooting out to still him.

“Wait! Uh. Actually, I uh. I have something for you.” He mumbled the words under his breath, coughing awkwardly when Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “I was going to wait until Christmas, but I... you’ll probably spend the day with your friends, and I. Just wait here, alright?”

Stiles hummed a little and nodded, sitting back down in his chair, though Derek could see the little bounce of excitement he was doing. He darted through the portrait hole to his adjoined bedroom, reappearing a moment later with something squirming in his arms.

“I also might be giving it to you early because she’s _annoying as Hell._ ” Derek muttered, before he placed the animal in Stiles’ lap.

Immediately- as he suspected- she began to purr in delight, putting her paws on Stiles’ shoulder and then scrubbing her face against his neck. The boy- who looked completely taken aback for a moment- wrapped his arms around her and cuddled her right back.

“You got me a cat.”

“She’s a kneazle.” Derek corrected, sitting back and watching the two of them. “They only bond to someone who is pure of heart. Anyone who comes near them with bad intentions, and they attack. I was... I intended to do a project with them in class, but I don’t think I’m going to have the time. I had already ordered her...”

But the logistics seemed completely lost on Stiles, who was still letting the thing rub all along his neck, back, and shoulders, his hands ghosting over her tenderly. “She’s beautiful.”

Derek thought that the animal was far from the most beautiful thing in the room. But he didn’t say that.

**********

Christmas passed with a surprisingly small amount of fanfare. Derek, Laura, and Cora spent the day in Laura’s Transfiguration classroom, eating ice-mice and chocolate frogs, and drinking butterbeer. They exchanged small gifts (he received a copy of Les Miserables from Cora- she knew he’d been in love with the story since he’d taken her to see the play in New York the year before- and a hand knit charcoal colored sweater from Laura, that was comfortable, if a little tight) and recounted stories of Holidays past.

The Great Hall was fairly empty, most of the students gone for the month, but there was no lack of food, mountains of it piled onto every table. The house elves had clearly outdone themselves. Even the Hogwarts ghosts seemed to be in the Christmas spirit, soaring above the tables and singing carols loudly and off-key.

Towards the end of the meal, Derek caught Stiles’ eye and smiled, nodding in his direction. The boy- who Derek noticed was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Scott and Cora,and had the kneazle purring at his feet- smiled back and waved at him, excitedly. He looked like he might stand and come say hello, but Scott tugged at his arm and drew him back into the conversation.

It was a good Christmas, all in all, Derek decided.

The next morning, he found himself taking his new book down to the library, pleasantly surprised when he found Boyd sitting at their usual table. “I didn’t know you were staying over the break.”

Boyd gave him a smile, looking up from the textbook he had open. “Wasn’t planning to. Erica talked me into it. Apparently her parents are going to Barbados, and she _hates_ the beach.”

“I didn’t see you two at dinner last night.”

“We were, uh. Busy during dinner.”

Derek felt his face heat up at Boyd’s words, and cleared his throat uncomfortable. “Of course. Well, uh, it was a good Christmas.” He muttered absurdly, before he sat down across from him, and opened up his own book, pointedly ignoring the satisfied smirk on Boyd’s face.

Of course, per usual, it was less than an hour before Erica appeared, plopping down onto Boyd’s lap. “Professor! Happy Christmas! Uh, late Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Miss Reyes.” He gave her a smile, leaning back, eyes leaving his book.

Erica turned to brush noses with Boyd. “C’mon. We need to get to Gladrags, we’re supposed to be finding clothes for the dance.” Bright eyes glanced at Derek. “Which Professor Hale has been _soooo_ generous in offering to chaperone.”

He chuckled and nodded his head at her.

Boyd, looking defeated and utterly forlorn at the idea of being forced to try on clothes, stood up and put his book into his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He gave Derek a small wave, which he returned, and the two turned to walk away.

Only, a moment later, Erica reappeared, smacking her hands onto the table. “Why don’t you come with us? You need something to wear to the dance, too, right?”

Derek’s eyes widened a little. “Uh... I had intended to wear something in my wardrobe...”

Her deep brown eyes flicked over his outfit- the too-tight sweater Laura had knitted him, and his black slacks- before she shook her head slightly, blonde curls falling into her face. “Um. No. C’mon, it’ll be fun. You have to be bored hanging out with all the old people by now, right?”

And she did have a point, sort of. At twenty-three, Derek was a handful of decades younger than most of the other staff members. Even the younger ones were still old enough to be he and Laura’s parents.

Hanging out with seventeen year olds, who were _his students_ still seemed weird.

“Please?” Boyd gave him a pleading look, like the idea of Derek coming along might lessen the severe pain of being forced to play dress up.

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Let me put this back in my room. I’ll meet you at Gladrags?”

Erica made a happy noise, and clapped her hands together. “Yes! Okay, yes, hurry!” She grabbed at Boyd’s sleeve and tugged him out of the library.

**********

As it turned out, Erica and Boyd weren’t the only two on the shopping excursion.

When Derek walked into the tiny clothing store, Erica was standing on a pedestal with a store associate fluttering around her, as she spun around in a pink and white number, with feathers. She caught his eyes in the mirror and gave him a thumbs with a questioning expression on her face. He grinned in response and shot her a thumbs up, before turning to the men’s section.

Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, and Stiles were standing awkwardly in front of a line of mirrors, while an elderly man took Isaac’s measurements, muttering something about ‘tall, tall, much too tall’ under his breath. Isaac looked mortified, and Derek noticed Scott patting him on the shoulder.

The second Stiles caught sight of him, he gaped, mouth slackjaw, and motioned for Derek to come closer. The way that Stiles was looking at him was too much, absolutely too much, and he flushed under the gaze, though he did move forward, shuffling at a nervous pace.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hi.” Stiles barked the words out, eyes still blown wide. “Where the Hell did you get that sweater?”

Derek frowned and glanced down at himself, at the sweater he’d gotten from his sister- the one Erica had definitely not approved of. “Laura knitted it.”

“Remind me to send her a thank you note.” Stiles muttered in response, and it looked like he was forcing himself to look away from Derek’s chest when Scott leaned over and said something to him, that Derek didn’t catch.

He didn’t stop blushing for at least thirty minutes.

Erica, who had already paid for the feather dress, was set about helping the boys pick out what looked best on them. Professor Hale was easy, she said, because everything looked good on him. (At which the other boys had definitely looked disgruntled as Hell.) So, he wound up with his own robes in a bag at his feet, watching her boss them around with a smile on his mouth.

“God dammit.” He heard from one of the dressing rooms, and frowned, taking a step forward and rapping at the door.

“You okay in there?”

“Well, there’s no kappas, so that’s a plus.”

Derek huffed at the boy and rolled his eyes. “Do you need help?”

In the next moment, the dressing room door was being opened and he was being pulled inside, the door slamming shut just as quickly behind him.

Stiles was- thankfully- dressed, with the exception of the black tie around his neck, hanging limp and sad. “If I come out there without it tied, Erica is going to cut off one of my hands. I’m almost positive of it.”

Derek wondered if you could get arthritis, or something similar, in your eyes, from eye rolling too hard, too often.

He reached up to Stiles’ neck, sliding his fingers over the soft silk, before he started tying it easily. (He pointedly did not look at Stiles’ mouth, where he could see, indirectly, through his peripheral, he was licking his lips.) “You are a child.” He muttered, dryly. (A reminder for himself as much as anything else.)

“Just because I don’t have a reason to wear a tie all that often...”

“You wear a tie every day to class. How do you tie it?”

He flushed, actually flushed, and as Derek watched the redness appear on his neck, he wondered what it might taste like. To lean forward and run his tongue along that blush on his skin, to trace his moles with tongue and teeth, to _learn_ him. And God, it was as terrifying as it was tempting.

“Isaac ties it for me.”

Derek frowned, and looked at his eyes, raising an eyebrow, like he was waiting for a punchline. When none came, he snorted. “That’s pathetic.”

“I know, I know, shut up.”

“Isaac must really love you.”

He turned Stiles towards the mirror, tie done up, and cleared his throat. The boy admired himself for a long moment, running a hand down his chest.

“Don’t be jealous. Isaac’s totally in love with someone else. Well, two someones, maybe...”

“I’m not jealous.”

Stiles met his eyes in the mirror and grinned, backing up just a little, just enough that his back was pressed flush to Derek’s front, and Derek’s heart stuttered in his chest. He was warm and soft- a searing weight against him like a brand.

“Isaac’s not the one I’m interested in, either.”

Derek shuddered. He let his face fall forward, into the nape of Stiles’ neck, and drew in a deep breath. He needed to say _something_ , but before he could open his mouth, someone was banging on the door.

“Stiles!” Erica was yelling at him, and he could imagine the look on her face. “I want to see your robes!”

Derek pulled back hurriedly, and shook his head.

“Better hurry. Wouldn’t want a hand cut off, right?”

He darted out of the dressing room without another word.

**********

Throughout the rest of Winter Break, Derek told himself that he was going to find a chance to sit down and talk to Stiles. But between preparing for the start to term to start, and helping the rest of his friends plan for the dance, there didn’t seem to be five minutes that the two of them got to spend alone.

Whatever they were, Derek knew that they couldn’t actually act on it. He was attracted to Stiles. To the way that his long fingers wrapped around wands and quills, and the way that his moles made a path down his neck, beneath his clothes, begging Derek to follow. He was _attracted_ to him, he was big enough to admit that.

And maybe it was more than attraction, at a base level. Stiles was smart, Derek knew that. And he was funny, even if his humor was completely inappropriate. And he was protective of his friends in a way that Derek couldn’t help but admire, and he was thoughtful, and he was _good._ He was good.

Derek maybe liked. He maybe liked him a lot more than he was willing to cop to, or would _ever_ really be willing to cop to.

But that didn’t matter. Because whatever they were, they couldn’t be. They shouldn’t be. Legality was great and all, and it wasn’t like Derek was worried about being sent to _prison_ , but legality wasn’t the only issue in the pot.

He was his teacher. And even if he hadn’t been excited about this job in the beginning, it had grown on him. Being back in Hogwarts, though hard at first, _painful_ at first, was finally starting to be, for him, whatever Laura had been sure it was going to be. He had missed it here, in ways that he hadn’t even realized he’d missed it. It felt like home, in ways he hadn’t even realized he needed a home.

He wasn’t willing to give that up. He couldn’t give that up. Not even for Stiles.

Especially not when he knew, if he were being really honest with himself, that whatever it was for _him_ was definitely not what it was for Stiles. Whatever this thing was between them, for Stiles it was _exciting._ Going after your teacher, having an of illicit affair. Something that some students had daydreams about.

So, yes, he had intended on finding him and talking to him about it, and telling him exactly that, that he was not interested in acting out some kind of taboo fantasy for Stiles. But days came and went, and before Derek had a chance to do so, the other students were back from holiday, and it was the night of the Winter dance.

As promised, he showed up exactly on time, in his black and grey robes, and stood back against the wall to _chaperone._

The Great Hall was decorated beautifully, he would admit, especially considering it had all been done by the students. Everything done in ice blue and silver, with crystal snowflakes hovering near the ceiling. The four house tables were gone, replaced with dozens of smaller, round tables, throughout the hall, pushed towards the walls to make room for a dance floor. A giant Christmas tree stood off to the side, decorated with tinsel and sparkling white lights.

It seemed, from where he was hovering by the wall, no one noticed him, though he did notice several people.

Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore were dressed to impress, in a matching white/green outfits, though they hadn’t so much as danced all night, Jackson sitting and talking to Danny- dressed in powder blue robes- while Lydia looked bored and annoyed at his side.

Erica and Boyd, on the other hand, didn’t leave the dance floor once, after the music started playing. They were quite the pair, she with her blonde curls pulled up high, in her pink and white feathery gown. His massive, dark frame draped in all black robes. They couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces, and he found himself smiling at them, softly, from where he watched.

The most shocking part of the evening was when his eyes landed on Cora- and Allison. The two were sitting together at a little round table, Allison laughing at something Cora was saying. A moment later, Isaac and Scott appeared, two drinks in each of their hands, and the boys turned into Cora’s story, laughter breaking out from all of them, now.

He hadn’t realized that Cora and Allison had moved past trying to kill each other. He made a note to ask his sister, later, when this change had occurred.

When Stiles walked through the door, Derek found him immediately. His robes were a dark red, dark enough to be mistaken for black, if the lights hadn’t been so bright. He tugged awkwardly at his tie, and Derek saw his eyes flicking around, like he was looking for someone. When he frowned, and started moving towards the table where Cora and the others were sitting, Derek moved forward.

He did need to talk to him.

“Hey.” He said softly, leaning forward to tap him on the shoulder.

Stiles wheeled around, and his face broke out in a wide smile. “Hey. Thought you’d bailed.” His eyes slid up and down Derek’s frame, and he grinned a little wider. “You look g-”

“We need to talk.”

That had the smile disappearing off of Stiles’ mouth in a second. He coughed, and cleared his throat. “Look, can we do this later? Please? Just, um. C’mon, let’s have some punch or something.”

The sad, frantic look on his face made Derek’s heart pang in his chest, and he sighed. It was a dance, after all. A night where they were supposed to be happy. The talk could wait, he supposed, until later. Just a little later.

With a soft smile, he nodded his head. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get you some punch.”

He walked off to the refreshment table, lined with several bowls of punch, and plates of food, and grabbed two goblets, pouring the purple drink into them.

This was ridiculous. He was nervous, like a teenager on a date. He was _not_ a teenager on a date.

At all.

And yet, he found himself taking the goblets and walking back towards Stiles, where he had leaned against a window at the edge of the room, a smile on his mouth. “Here you go.” He handed the drink over to him, and then tipped the punch down his own throat, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Thanks.” Stiles grinned up at him and took the drink, watching the dance floor with a fond look on his face. Derek managed to follow his eyes to where he saw Scott and Allison dancing.

“They’re a cute couple.”

“Yeah, they are.”

There was so much more that he wanted to say, but he couldn’t make himself. They stood there for a long moment, the tension growing thicker and thicker. When Stiles accidentally- or maybe intentionally, he couldn’t really know, could he- brushed against his side, Derek sighed and moved to walk away.

“I should go, you know, chaper-” But he... couldn’t.

He literally couldn’t. Derek tried to take a step forward, and found himself stuck in place, like an invisible force field had been put around them.

“Ah... Stiles?”

“Fuck.”

When he glanced over at the boy, he saw his head turned up, staring at the ceiling. Derek pointedly did _not_ think about the way that the curve of his neck looked like it was begging to be bitten, and licked, and sucked. He did not think about it. At all.

Instead, he turned to look in the same direction that Stiles was looking, and when he saw the things hovering over them, his eyes blew wide.

“Stiles, what the Hell is that?”

“Enchanted mistletoe. I swear, I didn’t know that it was here. I... fuck, Erica said she was gonna put some up, but I totally forgot. I... I didn’t plan this, okay, I swear to God, I didn’t plan this.”

Derek just stared.

“Enchanted... how?”

“Take a wild guess?”

“God dammit, Stiles.”

“I didn’t plan this! I’m sorry, look, um. Maybe I can get Erica to take the enchantment off. It’s not supposed to break unless you kiss, but maybe there’s a reversal for it.”

But Derek seriously doubted that. And the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to the two of them, if they were gonna have to do this.

“Don’t.”

“But-”

Derek bent forward and curled a hand around the side of Stiles’ neck. When their mouths met, he felt something in his goddamn chest break free, something he didn’t have a name for, something that terrified him. Stiles’ mouth was soft, and sweet, like the punch that he’d just been drinking. When he whimpered into him, Derek felt the sound go directly to his dick.

And he knew he had to pull back.

Experimentally, he took a few steps backwards, sighing in relief when he could get away from him. And a quick glance around the Great Hall showed that no one seemed to have noticed the moment when Derek’s life went spiraling into complete and total upheaval.

“Derek?”

“It’s Professor Hale. You should learn to speak to me like you have some modicum of respect, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles looked like he’d hit him.

“C’mon, don’t be like that... it... I’m sorry it happened like that, but it was... good, right? I mean, I know you felt... something, ri-”

“I need to check on the other students. Have a good evening, Mr. Stilinski.”

Derek turned on heel, and, heart pounding, walked away as quickly as he could.

**********

Derek shouldn’t have surprised when Stiles avoided him like the Black Plague for the weeks following the Winter Dance. They settled into a new, uncomfortable dynamic, never meeting each other’s eye, never speaking outside of questions in class. When the little kneazle- Derek learned Stiles had named her Gilda- passed him in the hallway, she hissed malevolently in his direction, and made him feel like the biggest jackass on the planet.

He hated it. He hated not being able to joke around with him, to roll his eyes at his snarky comments, to accidentally-on-purpose brush skin against skin.

But it was for the best. He knew that it was for the best.

Even if it was painful.

Still, when Stiles didn’t show up for class one afternoon, the rest of them trudging over in their usual fashion to dig out their books, he was worried.

“McCall!” He motioned Scott over, before he lowered his voice. “Where’s Mister Stilinski?”

Scott gave him a long look, before he sighed and shook his head. “He had a rough time in Professor Morrell’s class today. He’s been down in the Hufflepuff dorms since lunch.”

Derek’s face screwed up in confusion. “What happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Scott looked torn, and Derek couldn’t imagine why. After a moment, he shifted, nervously, and lowered his own voice. “We faced a boggart, sir.”

And Derek didn’t know what Stiles’ biggest fear was. He didn’t know what could have possibly been so hard on him that he had to hide in his common room all day. He didn’t know what he had seen.

But he felt a spike of terror fill his heart, regardless.

**********

He was being creepy. He actually _knew_ that he was being creepy, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he just didn’t care enough to stop, or if he was incapable of stopping altogether.

Derek’s first idea had been to try and bribe the portrait into just letting him into the common room. But, upon finding that there was not actually much that portraits wanted for, he’d resorted to threats. And she’d gotten _incredibly_ haughty at being threatened, and had refused to speak to him at all after that.

So, he’d gone to bribing children, instead. He’d had to give the first year three galleons to get him to agree to fetch Stiles Stilinski from the seventh year dorms, and after fifteen minutes, he was beginning to think that the kid was just gonna keep his money and let him wait outside all night.

And wouldn’t that have been totally deserved?

But in the next moment, the portrait was swinging open and Stiles was striding through the door, long legs jutting forward and sinking to the floor. Derek perked up a little and stepped forward. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

“You paid a child to come and drag me out of my bed.”

“I did.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“I’m aware.”

Stiles sighed, and shook his head, rubbing a hand over the top of his skull, and then looked down the hallway, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Derek thought about what that might be like, to sink his own teeth into Stiles’ mouth. He shuddered.

“What do you want, Professor?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Don’t.”

Derek took a deep breath and steeled himself. He deserved that, completely. He took another tentative step forward. Stiles looked up and narrowed his eyes at him. He stopped. “Look, I...” His voice wavered, his body feeling weak and shaky, and he coughed. “I’m really hungry.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“You’re hungry?”

“Yeah. I was worried about you, you know, I didn’t eat much at dinner.”

“Poor thing.” The sarcastic drawl was a familiar comfort that Derek hadn’t realized how much he’d missed until that moment.

“You’re probably hungry, too, right? You didn’t eat.”

Stiles shrugged, noncommittally, and Derek nodded, jutting his head towards the end of the hallway. “C’mon. Let’s go down to the kitchen. We can get a late dinner.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

Stiles followed after him, hands shoved in his pockets and head bowed, and Derek took what he could get.

When they were seated at a little table in the back of the kitchen, house elves running around frantically to make them what they’d asked for- Derek a steak and potatoes, Stiles pancakes and eggs and bacon- Derek finally took a deep breath, and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Boggarts are the worst.”

Stiles hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything.

“They terrify me.”

“That’s kind of the entire point.”

“Well, yeah.”

They managed to sit in silence for a few more long moments, the house elves sweeping in to deliver the food. Stiles sliced into his pancakes and shoved them into his mouth, and Derek’s eyes followed the trail of syrup that leaked down his lip. Watch as Stiles’ tongue darted out to swipe across it and bring it back into his mouth.

“What’s yours?”

“Hmm?”

“Your boggart, what is it?”

Derek shifted, uncomfortable at being put on the spot, and looked down at his own food. He pushed a potato to the side with his fork. “Kate Argent.”

Stiles dropped his head into his hands. “You can’t do that shit to me, man.”

Derek huffed, and leaned back to cross his arms over his chest. “What?”

“I’m trying to stay mad at you for the bullshit you pulled at the dance. You can’t just come in here, all vulnerable and shit, after _months_. That’s totally underhanded.”

His voice was soft, though. Almost teasing. He shifted in his chair until he could take a deep breath, and sit up straighter. “Alright. Alright, okay.”

He fidgeted a moment more, and Derek watched him, leaning forward with his hands chin propped up on his hands.

Stiles took a deep breath.

“Uh, my mom died. You knew that. She worked at the Ministry, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. She got this... I don’t know, she ended up with this box of stuff, right? And she was supposed to be sorting through it, but... one of the objects was cursed. And she got sick.”

Stiles cleared his throat, and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“It took them a long time to figure out what had cursed her. Too long. Black magic made its way into her bloodstream. They couldn’t save her.”

Derek watched the water in Stiles’ eyes well, and he reached forward, without thinking, and twisted their fingers together. Stiles squeezed his hand.

“My dad got promoted a couple years ago. He’s always been an auror, you know, as long as I’ve been alive, but he got promoted. He’d head of the department, now. And I just... I know what he does is dangerous. I’m not stupid. And I just... man, I just really don’t wanna lose my dad, too, you know?”

Derek nodded. He did know. The idea of losing Laura or Cora was terrifying.

They sat there for another long while, their hands twined together, Derek’s thumb stroking against the curve of Stiles’ wrist.

They ate, sort of, chewing quietly, lost in their own thoughts.

After a moment, Derek spoke again. “Kate was my girlfriend.”

He didn’t look up at Stiles’ face, because he didn’t want to know what he’d see staring back at him.

“I didn’t know about her family. I didn’t know what she really wanted from me. She was this pretty, older woman, working in Hogsmeade. I was the seventh year, Head Boy, captain of my quidditch team. I thought nothing could touch me.” He shook his head. “She wormed her way in. She won.”

The Argents had been Death Eaters in both the first and second Wizarding World Wars. After the fall of Voldemort at the hands of Harry Potter, the majority of them had turned to the side of good, and begged for forgiveness. Had seemed to have turned their lives around completely.

What was unknown was that Gerard Argent had begun his own group. Like a cult of fallen Death Eaters, their only intention was to destroy those that had belonged to the Order. To seek out any who believed in equality for muggle borns and slaughter them where they stood.

The Hale family had been one such family- in both wars.

And for that, they had burned.

Stiles’ hand squeezed his, tight, like a vice, fingers digging into his skin, into the tendons on the back of his hand. When Derek looked up at him, he ached at the tears in his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, hands clasped together on the table, watching each other with big eyes. Derek didn’t even realize that he was leaning forward, his free hand pushing into Stiles’ hair, their lips inches apart, until a group of house elves bustled through to grab their plates out from in front of them.

Awkwardly, the boys jumped apart, and Derek could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“Will you be needing anything else, sir?” Preened one of the elves, bowing lowly, so that her ears nearly touched the floor.

“No, I got what I came for. Thank you.” He mumbled, more to himself than to her, and watched her scurry away. Derek sighed, and glanced over at Stiles. “We should probably get you in bed.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

They locked eyes for a long moment, and Derek took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Stiles-”

“Shut up.”

He wasn’t sure what was happening. The next thing he knew, Stiles was leaning forward, hands wrapping into the collar of his shirt, their mouths pressed together, hot and needy. Derek couldn’t stop himself from moaning into it, a needy little noise that had his lips parting. Stiles took advantage of that, his tongue flicking into Derek’s mouth, raking at the ridges on the top, before swirling around Derek’s own tongue. His own hands moved to steady the boy, grabbing at his waist and clenching tight.

When they pulled back, they were both out of breath.

“Fuck.” Stiles whispered, amber eyes blown wide.

“Fuck.” Derek agreed with a nod.

They did not fuck.

Derek, like a respectable human being, knowing that they were both feeling vulnerable, took Stiles back to his common room. And maybe they kissed once more before he left, Stiles pushed against the wall, one of Derek’s legs between Stiles’, pushing at where he could feel the boy’s cock hardening. Maybe Stiles twisted his fingers in Derek’s tie and tugged, and Derek growled, and raked his nails over his neck, leaving little scratches in his wake.

Maybe they did.

But they did not fuck.

And when Derek made his way back to his room, all he could think was that, even if Stiles was only in this for the excitement of hooking up with your teacher, he was totally, completely, stupidly lost to the boy.

**********

_You know, you lied to me._

Derek looked up in confusion when the spelled note arrived in front of him at the staff table, a week later, during breakfast in the Great Hall. When he found Stiles watching him expectantly, he made a face, and scribbled back,

_About what, exactly?_

The note shot away from him, and five minutes later, it was back with another message.

_You said you’d come and see me play._

_I believe I said maybe._

_Come oooooooooon. You’re coming today, aren’t you?_

_What’s today?_

_I swear to God, you live under a rock. How do you not know what today is?_

_Are you going to tell me, or make fun of me?_

_Both. It’s the game for the cup. HUFFLEPUFF VERSUS SLYTHERIN, HELL YEAH, MO’FUCKAS. We’re gonna murder those little snakey shits._

Derek laughed, loud and hard, but cut off immediately when he caught Deaton giving him a raised eyebrow. He hunched down over the note again and scrawled back.

_I’ll be there._

He pretended not to notice the fist pump from the Hufflepuff table.

**********

The game did end up being a murder- just not of Slytherin.

With Jackson and Danny working side by side to beat the bludgers in the direction of the Hufflepuff team, and Lydia catching quaffles that came anywhere near the Slytherin goals with precision and grace, there was no hope.

Stiles and Allison worked opposing each other, each zooming in and out of the field, looking for the snitch.

Derek couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

He was fast, ridiculously fast, and more graceful than Derek had ever seen him on the ground. His face was screwed up into one of complete and total concentration, and Derek- when he focused on him with his binoculars- could just barely make out his lower lip, sucked into his mouth.

God, he was so in love with him.

The realization had him dizzy and stumbling backwards into his seat, releasing the binoculars in his hands, letting them fall loosely around his neck.

When had he fallen in love with Stiles?

But really, when he thought about it, when had he not fallen in love with Stiles? Everything that the boy did, everything he said, everything he _was_ should have repelled Derek. And yet, from day one, he had done nothing but draw him to him, like a moth to a flame. And here they were, the end of the year drawing nearer and nearer, and all he wanted was to ask him not to forget him after graduation.

Stiles liked him. He knew that. Stiles knew him better than so many people did. Knew things about him he had never told anyone else.

But was Stiles in love with him? He needed to know. He needed to find out what they had, he needed-

The crowd broke out in screams, and Derek turned his attention back to the game. Allison and Stiles had both spotted the snitch, their brooms angled downward, headed directly for the bottom of the field, where he could just barely make out the snitch fluttering near the grass.

Stiles was ahead of her. Stiles was going to catch the snitch. They were going to win.

And then a bludger, hit by Jackson Whittemore’s club, came right at him. Stiles veered sharply to the right to avoid getting hit, and seconds later, Allison’s fingers wrapped around the snitch. The screaming of Slytherin team was loud enough to drown out the announcer’s voice.

Derek would apologize for the loss later.

And then he would ask Stiles if he felt the same.

**********

As it turned out, finding a time to sit down and have a meaningful conversation with Stiles was a lot more difficult than it should have been. With N.E.W.Ts looming around the corner, all of the seventh years were throwing themselves into their studying. The only time that Derek actually _saw_ Stiles was at meals, in class, or when he was in the library, hunched over a book. And none of those seemed like an appropriate time to ask the boy if he wanted to be his boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The terminology sounded fucking ridiculous in his own head.

At twenty-three years old, Derek Hale had never had a boyfriend. There had been guys and girls that he’d fooled around with in school, there had been Kate, and over the past six years, there had been a small, _very small_ , handful of people that he’d had sordid one night stands with.

No boyfriend to speak of. And the thought of having his first boyfriend be one of his students was... even more fucking ridiculous.

This whole thing was stupid. There was no way that Stiles wanted to _be_ with him. Just because they had opened up to each other, it didn’t mean that they shared some deep, romantic bond. Derek was sure that lots of people had heard the story of Stiles’ mother. And just because he had decided to wuss out, and tell a story of his own in return, didn’t mean that Stiles _owed_ him anything. It didn’t mean that they were soulmates.

They could have sex. They could totally have sex, and then Stiles could leave, and go pursue whatever career he decided on after graduation. And it could be good, and meaningful, for both of them, without it having to mean they were in love. Without it having to mean that he begged Stiles to stick around.

Except that wasn’t what Derek wanted. He didn’t want a once or twice fuck and then to watch the boy walk out of his life forever.

He wanted to learn what he sounded like in the shower, and the faces he made when he slept. He wanted to learn how Stiles was at making pancakes, and if they looked like gross white blobs but tasted amazing, to counteract the fact that Derek’s looked great but never quite got the flavor he wanted. He wanted to know how Stiles took his tea and if he was a cuddler and if he wanted attention or to be left alone when he was sick. He wanted to know his favorite animal, and if he’d ever been to New York, and if he hadn’t, if he’d like to go some time, because Derek would really, really like to take him.

He wanted Stiles- every part of Stiles, including the snarky, and the dark, and the broken parts- forever.

And he was so scared of not being wanted in return.

“Derek? Hello? Earth to Der?”

He snapped out of his line of thought, when he realized that his sister was waving her hand in his face. When had she come into his office?

“What?” He growled, a little too harshly, at being interrupted mid-thought.

Laura didn’t seem phased by it, though, and just rolled her eyes at him, hopping up onto the edge of his desk. (He didn’t think about how Stiles had sat right there, in that very spot.) “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Alright.”

“What do you think of Marin?”

Derek wracked his brain for an answer to that, leaning back, eyebrows drawing together stiffly. He didn’t know much about Professor Morrell. She was pretty, but quiet, and had a harsh kind of air about her that was familiar to Derek, if nothing else.

“I don’t know her. She seems alright. Why?”

“She’s asked me to spend the summer with her, in France.” She flushed slightly, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, squirming in her seat. “I think she’s going to ask me to marry her.”

Derek’s eyebrows moved even closer together, if at all possible. How checked out of his sister’s life had he been that he hadn’t even realized things with Professor Morrell were moving so quickly? The last time he remember her mentioning the other woman, she’d been fighting with her, just before Christmas.

“I thought you two broke up.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, about six times. And we got back together about six times.”

“Oh.”

She moved a little closer to him, letting out a dry chuckle. “C’mon, Derek. It hasn’t exactly been easy to talk to you this year, with you fawning over Stilinski the way you have.”

Wait.

What.

He managed to stare at her for a solid minute with a look of someone caught in the Killing Curse, before Laura tsked her tongue at him. “That’s what I thought.” She mumbled, leaning forward to kiss his forward. She squeezed his shoulder tenderly on her way back. “Darling, do whatever makes you happy, okay? He’s a great kid. Now, please, please, please, tell me what you think of Marin.”

Derek couldn’t find words for a long moment. And when he did speak, all he could say was, “I hope you two have the longest, greatest lives together.”

**********

Another month managed to go by, before Derek had a chance to talk to Stiles.

Exams came with a frantic sense of urgency amongst the fifth and seventh years, without much opportunity for Derek to sit him down and try to make big, bold decisions about the rest of their lives. (Or whatever the Hell he was trying to do here.)

So, he threw himself into his other classes and tried to be a more attentive brother, by spending as much time with Laura as he could. (Including a very awkward dinner with her and Marin.)

But, eventually, the end of N.E.W.Ts finally arrived. Derek sent a letter to Stiles at breakfast, along with the rest of the post, asking him to meet him that night, in his office. He was trying, really, really, desperately hard to play it cool.

And he had a feeling he was failing miserably, but he was trying.

When eight o'clock rolled around, Derek had already showered, changed twice, and had paced around his office enough that he was probably wearing a track in the floor. He considered casting some kind of calming spell on himself, but he wanted to be _aware_ during his conversation with Stiles- not in a magically altered state of mind.

He should have been expecting him to just barge right in, unannounced, but he wasn’t, and when he heard the door to his office open, he actually jumped a little, wheeling around to look at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Stiles repeated, giving Derek a once over, before he dropped into the chair in front of his desk, throwing his legs up to balance on the edge of the desk. “Long time no speak.”

“Yeah.” Derek agreed with an annoyed huff, dropping down into his own seat to get a look at Stiles. He looked... good. Really good. A little haggard, a little tired, maybe, but good, his shirt collar tugged down a little, the first few buttons undone, his tie loose. Derek could make out more moles peppering his skin, dipping beneath the white fabric.

“How did your exams go?”

“Fine, I guess. I think I fucked up Ancient Runes a little, but I don’t even know why I took that class in the first place.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good. That’s, uh-”

“Look, you can spare me the lecture, alright?”

The harshness in Stiles’ tone took Derek completely by surprise, and he actually had to lean back in his chair a little, eyebrows rising, shaking his head slightly. “What?”

“The lecture. The ‘I know we kissed but it was a one time thing, and you can’t ever tell anyone, and you’re only seventeen, and you have your _whoooole_ future ahead of you, wouldn’t wanna ruin it by getting involved with your teacher’ lecture.” Stiles rolled his eyes, his fingers twisting in front of himself, tongue laving at his mouth, a tiny nervous habit. “Just don’t bother, okay? I get it. Your _silence_ has been more than informing.”

Derek blinked a few times, and cocked his head to the side.

“Stiles, I-”

“And you know, it’s such bullshit. Because I _know_ you, Derek! I know you, whether you’ll own up to it or not. And it... it has fuckall to do with me being seventeen, okay, and everything to do with the fact that you... you hate letting people in, don’t you? You _hate_ it. And you let me in, and now you... you’re scared. You’re a coward.”

“Now, wait just a mother fucking minute!”

Stiles pushed away from the table, and started for the door. “God, Derek, I... I love you, you know that? I fucking love you, and you’re too busy being grouchy and buying into this tall, dark, and dangerous thing that you-”

Derek slammed Stiles face-first into the door, his hips pressing in on him from behind, his face falling into the crook of his neck. He could practically taste the sweat beading at the nape of his neck, and Derek drug in a deep breath.

“Stiles?” He whispered the word into his skin before giving a chuckle, shaking his head just slightly. “Can you please let me get a few words out, before you make assumptions?”

Stiles made an annoyed noise, but glanced at Derek through the corner of his eye. They held gazes for a long, long moment, before he bit at his lip, his cheeks pinkening slightly. “No lecture?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.”

He flipped the boy around, and raised his eyebrows at him. “You love me.”

“Uh. Well. I mean... is that... that’s weird, right? I mean, I didn’t-”

“Stiles.”

“Well, you’re kind of okay, I guess. And you, um... well, you know, I...” He sucked in a deep breath, before his hands moved up to rest at Derek’s hips, his fingers curling around them. He tugged him closer, bringing their bodies flush again, chest to chest, foreheads touching, lining up their noses, their mouth centimeters apart. “I love you, Derek.”

He groaned, his hands pushing at the small of Stiles’ back, dragging him those few centimeters closer to slam their lips together. Too hard, almost, teeth clattering just a little, and it hurt, but not enough to get him to stop.

Stiles wrapped his arms around his neck and made an encouraging noise when Derek shoved his tongue between his lips and licked at the roof of his mouth. Derek pushed his hands under his shirt, tugging it out of his pants as he went, gripping at warm, bare skin.

The younger boy’s fingers twisted in Derek’s hair, tugging at him and making Derek growl out a deep, masculine sound of approval.

“Fuck.” Stiles breathed into his mouth, and if that wasn’t the best idea Derek had ever heard. He let his hands move away from his back and towards his front, tearing at the buttons to get them undone as quickly as he could.

Stiles seemed totally on board with getting clothes off, hands moving out of Derek’s hair to push at his robes, tossing pieces to the floor, ripping off his tie and sending it flying somewhere. Derek didn’t exactly stop to see where.

He finally got Stiles’ shirt off, tossing it behind him and then pulling back for just a second to look down at him. God, he was fucking gorgeous. Derek’s cock, hard and needy, pressed against the confines of his slacks, but he ignored it, choosing instead to lean down and suck one of Stiles’ moles- just above his nipple- into his mouth.

Stiles made an ungodly noise of pleasure, leaning back into the desk and arching up against him hard, knocking over a few ink bottles in the process.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, fuck.”

Derek pulled him up and grinned at him, shaking his head. “Don’t.” He laced their fingers and tugged him towards the portrait hole to his bedroom, dragging him inside.

“I love you.” Derek found himself whispering into Stiles’ skin, when he had him pushed back onto the bed, portrait snapping closed behind them. He kissed at his clavicle, before moving lower, pressing his mouth over his heart, and then at his breastbone. “I love you so much that it’s stupid.”

“Oh my God, Derek, shut up and touch my dick or something, please.”

He laughed, loud, but nodded, pressing his face against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen, the little happy trail leading into his pants, before he twisted open the button and yanked the zipper down, tugging off Stiles’ pants, and his boxer briefs with them.

“Fuck.” He breath the word slowly, drinking in the sight of Stiles’ cock. Hard and red, leaking precome, it was possibly the most glorious thing that Derek had ever seen. And he decided he needed to get his mouth on it.

Dropping to his knees at the base of the bed, he heard Stiles ask, “Are you seriously gonna-” before his mouth wrapped around his dick, and the boy was crying out a garbled sound of pleasure, hips snapping up and off the bed.

Derek wrapped his hand around the base of Stiles’ cock, working him over slowly, sucking first at just the head, before letting his mouth sink deeper. He could feel Stiles’ precome against his tongue and it made him moan, his own hips pressing into the edge of the bed for some source of release, even if it were small.

Stiles leaned forward and wrapped the fingers of one hand into Derek’s hair, pulling too hard, but Derek didn’t mind. His other hand wrapped into the bedsheets, fisting at them and nearly ripping them.

Derek wouldn’t mind if he did.

“Derek... Derek, I’m gonna-” Derek nodded into it, and when he felt Stiles coming down his throat, he swallowed around him, thanking the powers that be for small favors in the form of past experience.

He waited until Stiles was pushing at him, oversensitive, to pull back, and tossed the boy on the bed a grin.

He climbed in beside him, lying down on his side next to him, and brushing his fingers over his temple, watching his eyes. “You still wanna...”

Stiles’ skin, already slightly red and flushed, burned an even darker shade, and he rolled over onto his side, pressing his face into Derek’s chest. “Yes? Oh, God, yeah, I do. I just um. I’ve never... not... I’m a...”

Derek kissed him, curling a hand around his throat and using his thumb to push his head up a little. He drug his lower lip into his mouth on the way back, happy to note that it tasted as good as he’d always wanted it to taste.

“It’s okay. I’ll go slow.”

Stiles looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded.

Derek kissed him one more time for good measure, before he pushed Stiles gently onto his back. Derek pushed his pants down until he could kick them off of the bed, his own cock jutting up against his stomach, yearning for attention, hot and heavy against his skin.

Stiles made a muffled whining noise at the sight, and chewed into his lip, body arching towards Derek’s. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

He flicked his wand carefully over Stiles’ body, before tossing it with his pants on the floor and reaching down to press a single digit against the boy’s entrance. The spell had done it’s job, and when he touched him there, he found him slick and wet, ready, if incredibly tight, and hot, against his finger.

Stiles keened underneath him, and he leaned forward to press soft kisses against his chest, ghosting against him. “I’ve got you.” He promised, before sliding two fingers into the boy, curling them inside of him.

Even as Stiles cried out and writhed against Derek’s body, he drug him in closer, his dick starting to stir between them, where Derek’s own cock was pressed in close. He rolled their hips together in a teasing motion, fingers still pumping slowly in and out of him.

“Okay. Okay, c’mon.” Stiles whispered, giving a nod of his head when he caught Derek’s eye. The older man paused for a moment, to make sure that Stiles was okay with it, before he nodded, reaching between them to wrap a hand around himself and line up with Stiles’ entrance.

He was _slow._ Painfully so, because he wanted so badly to thrust in, to let his hips buck wildly against the boy, to fuck him into the mattress and leave marks that would linger for days, or more. But there would be time for that, later.

For now, this was Stiles’ first time, and as great as fucking him hard and dirty was, in theory, it wasn’t what anyone needed their first time.

When he finally slid home, they both groaned, each of them hard as nails now, pressed tight together between their hips. Derek pushed Stiles’ thighs open more with his knees, and watched his face for any sign that he wanted him to stop.

Finding none, he bent forward to kiss him, the motion rocking them just slightly forward.

He caught Stiles’ moan in his mouth and sucked it into his lungs.

They started up an easy pace, Derek grinding into him slow and sweet, their mouths connected, licking and sucking at each other, sweat pooling and dripping from their limbs at the sheer heat of the moment.

When Derek felt his orgasm building, he wrapped his fist around Stiles once more and pumped, hard, and fast, in complete opposite to the torturously slow rhythm with which he fucked him.

They came at almost the same time, crying out into each other’s mouths, teeth clicking together, and then biting at each other in retaliation. Stiles nearly came right off the bed, had Derek not pressed him down tighter, growling and shuddering with the weight of it.

In the aftermath, Derek pulled out slowly, rolling over onto his side, and tucking Stiles against him.

He pressed a kiss into the nape of his neck, and, for the first time in a long, long time, let himself fall asleep with the person he’d made love to.

**********

Fifteen minutes after the graduation ceremony ended, Stiles made his way over to Derek- who had been in the middle of a conversation with Chris Argent, Allison’s father- and gave him a smile.

Derek smiled back, and after nodding at what Chris was saying, and promising that he would be more than happy to send a letter of recommendation to the Minister on Allison’s behalf- she wanted to try for a position on the Wizengamot- he turned to him and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered into the boy’s- his _boyfriend’s_ \- ear, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Yeah, I know. I’m pretty great. Hey, c’mon, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Stiles let go from the hug and reached down to wrap his hand around Derek’s wrist, tugging him towards a table where a middle-aged, sandy haired man, was seated alone. He stood, when Derek and Stiles drew closer.

“You must be Professor Hale.” His voice was altogether skeptical, as he looked him up and down, and Derek knew that he was being judged, though being judged for _what_ , he wasn’t entirely sure. “Stiles has told me quite a lot about you.”

It occurred to him, then, who this must be. “Mister Stilinski. Pleasure to meet you. I hope Stiles has only good things to say.”

“Oh, he has. He’s raved about you. In fact, he tells me that you’re the one who inspired his newfound career path.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, and turned to look at Stiles, a questioning expression on his face.

Stiles flushed, and worried at his lower lip. “Uh. I was gonna tell you. Finstock, um. Well, you know, he took over the quidditch department for the year, because there was no one else, but Deaton’s gotten a ton of letters from first years’ parents, complaining about he’s mean to them during flying. And people say he’s been rigging the quidditch games. So, uh. The position’s mine, if I want it. I told Deaton I wanted it.”

He was giving Derek the most nervous look ever, and he wanted to lean over and kiss him, hard, on the mouth. Didn’t, because his father was right in front of them. But wanted to.

He grinned.

“That’s great, Stiles.”

“So, I’m assuming you’ll be looking out for him while he’s here. Making sure he doesn’t end up in too much trouble.”

The older auror’s voice was threatening, just slightly, and Derek looked back at him with a smile.

“Trust me, sir. Your son is in good hands.”

And Derek made a point to prove that, over and over and over again, for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's that! I hope that you enjoyed it. Please keep in mind that I haven't actually read the Harry Potter books in a loooong time, so any inconsistencies with Potterverse canon are completely on me. I tried to look things up as best I could. Also, if you're interested in more of my writing, feel free to follow me on [tumblr](http://otpack.tumblr.com), where I do make a habit of posting ficlets every so often. Certainly more than I post anything on AO3.


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